Crossing path
by Lucystrn
Summary: They bump into each other, meet at work, at events, in shops, bars and even the street. She can't be left in peace. At the lowest point in her life, Hermione Granger decides that at least, the former Slytherins aren't playing the pity card with her. Maybe it's what she needs. Dramione story.
1. Chapter 1

Tuesday, April 29th, 2003

She walked a quick step, contemplating the idea of hanging herself instead of going to work this early in the morning. Feeling the air escape her lungs as she exhaled in the cold and humid breeze, she wondered if it would remain stuck in there if she were to hang herself at the end of a thick rope, tightly knotted around her neck. Would the pressure, if ever felt more than a few seconds, be unbearable? Or would it feel strangely reminiscent of disapparating? Would her vision blur as she'd feel dizziness wash over her, or would her sight become vivid and acutely precise on one point, while the outskirts of her peripheral vision blacken?

"Hey! Watch it!" She didn't even try to mumble the instinctive apology she felt bubble up under her lips for the passer-by ungracefully knocked off his path. She didn't even spare him a glance, after all, she didn't care.

A wind blow swept her hood back off her hair and, trying to grab it back, she stumbled over the slippery pavement. Missing about an inch falling on her arse, she managed to steady herself, slapping her left hand on the brick wall of the building.

She was soaked on the feet, her smart leather laced shoes now a pool where her toes swam, producing squishy noises as she started walking again.

* * *

He was late, again. He hurried his pace along the wet pavement, his wrinkled shirt making another irritating appearance from under his jacket. Tucking it back annoyingly in his pants, he winced in pain as someone knocked him off his feet.

"Hey! Watch it!" He barked at the petite figure that didn't even spare him a glance and kept walking as if nothing. Steadying himself against the brick wall, he growled.

"Rude little piece of …" He cut himself as he saw the hood of her cloak being blown back, releasing a cascade of chestnut brown frizzy hair. Unmistakable. As a small hand tried to put it back on, he watched with glee as she slipped on the pavement, and barely managed not to fall right on her golden arse by slapping a hand firmly to the brick wall. She started walking again, as if nothing. She would soon cross the street or turn a corner and, placing a smirk on his lips, he turned back decidedly. His friend could wait, not running but stepping quickly, he called:

"Granger!" She didn't even flinch nor made any movement betraying she'd heard him, so he called again:

"Oi! Granger!" Either she ignored him or she was deaf. He bet on the first.

"Hey book-worm!" There, she halted. He had almost reached her when he saw her shoulders raise as she inhaled deeply, before hurrying off again. He caught up with her as she was about to cross the street and grabbed her by the fore-arm.

* * *

Hermione had no idea who it was, or what he wanted, but she had no strength, whatsoever, for confrontation. The last name and book-worm calling didn't imply someone she liked and, as the few people that still fell under that category were, slowly but surely, being crossed from it, she knew it had to be someone she didn't want to talk to. She didn't bother acknowledging the calls, and just kept walking, hoping that this voice she didn't recognise would give up. Only it didn't and as she looked quickly both ways before crossing the street, a strong black hand grabbed her by the fore-arm.

"Hey Granger? Ignoring your old school mates now?" Her own voice sounded alien as she sighed:

"Go away."

* * *

She didn't even turn her face to look at him and extracted herself from his grip with unexpected strength for such a petite woman. She crossed the street, looking straight ahead and as man who could recognise useless efforts, Blaise Zabini gave up. He watched her until she finally turned a corner, probably heading towards the Ministry. Apparently fame hadn't done any good to Granger, and he wondered if the witch weekly gossip hadn't been right. The head of the law enforcement department looked indeed like shit.

Lifting his right wrist into view, Blaise hurried back the right way to the Leaky Cauldron, he was now thirty minutes late.

* * *

Draco Malfoy needed a break. That's why he'd called an old friend to meet up before work. Certainly not to watch the wrinkled bald scalp of Tom, the bartender of the Leaky Cauldron, for almost forty minutes. The stool he was sitting on was uncomfortable, and the bar he'd decided not to rest his elbows on, was dirty. The smell of ale and butterbeer mixed with sweat, this early in the morning, was the irrefutable proof that the man, currently wiping a glass with a questionable cloth, needed to retire. The only reason this damned place was still open was because it was the only way to Diagon Alley from muggle London.

"Sorry mate, didn't wait too long?" Blaise slumped on the stool beside him, panting.

"Forty five minutes in this damn place. One more and I could consider hanging myself."

"Always the dramatic. Didn't order?" Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste, pointing his chin to the bartender. Blaise shook his head disapprovingly:

"Come on, there's enough alcohol in firewhiskey to kill any bacteria. Two firewhiskeys Tom!"

"It's not even eight in the morning." Draco argued. He was answered with a shrug:

"Yes, well, when you call like that it's usually what you need."

Two not-so-transparent glasses were served and pushed lazily to them on the counter-top. Draco made the amber liquid, that resumed his breakfast, swirl in it, hoping it would, indeed, kill bacteria. He took a large gulp and as the familiar burning sensation crawled down his throat, he sighed: "Just needed a break is all."

His friend nodded in understanding, and shuffled a bit on his seat. Draco noticed the wrinkled shirt poking out from under Blaise's jacket, as well as his tired eyes and smirked:

"Did I interrupt something with my call?" He asked, knowing all too well what the response would be. Blaise took a sip at his own alcoholic breakfast and winked:

"Kinda."

"Lucky bastard. Who's the not-so-lucky lady?" Blaise chuckled at Draco's little banter.

"Daphne Greengrass." He answered with a smug smile.

"Oh, nice catch. Will she be around tomorrow?" Blaise's eyes widened comically and he shook his head:

"Hell no, good shag, bad personality. Too talkative. Even during …"

"Right, I get it." Draco cut with a scowl and Blaise smirked:

"Might have a go at her sister though. She'll be at commemoration Friday. You coming?"

"Err don't think so. I don't really enjoy being scowled at all evening."

"Come on, no one scowls at you any more, you're being overly dramatic."

"I'm not, they usually spend all evening babbling on about Dumbledore and the Order. It always ends up being all my fault. Plus, Potty and the weasel are speaking again this year …"

"Oh! Speaking of that! Guess who I ran into earlier? Like, literally ran into?"

Draco cocked an eyebrow in question and Blaise didn't need more:

"Granger, and guess what? She looks like shit. I think it's true, she's divorcing the weasel."

"I couldn't care less."

"Mm think about it. A shitty looking Granger, a sad sad sad red weasel, a torn Potter in the middle of the crack that will finally break the golden trio …"

Draco took another sip of his drink in consideration. The commemoration would probably be less united this year. If the golden trio was, indeed, breaking apart, their usual public image of the perfect war heroes would probably shatter under Rita Skeeter's scratching quill, especially if she sensed even the slightest bit of tension. A divorce was always source of tension, and remembering Granger's bossiness and Weasley's short temper, the night promised, in fact, to be interesting.

"I'll go."

* * *

Hermione gathered her notes and, pointedly ignoring the flying origami planes that kept poking her in the head, grabbed her cloak and hurried off her office. She passed the secretary desk without a word and entered the lift, her head bowed to her feet, hopeful to avoid small talks with a potential colleague. Her smart leather shoes weren't that interesting but fortunately the lift landed in the atrium without her having to open her mouth. She took a few steps in the large entrance hall and berated herself for thinking she'd been lucky.

"Mrs Weas … Miss Granger!"

She tried to ignore the voice but as she recognised it, knew she'd have to acknowledge it.

"Good evening Caroline. I'm in a hurry ..." She tried.

"I see. It's just that you haven't sent back your invitation for the commemoration. I wondered if you'd forgotten. You're coming of course?" It was more a statement than a question. Hermione didn't like the wary tone the official used with her. As if she thought she was about to cry or something. The insufferable blond witch certainly read those gossipy pieces of crap sold right out those doors and, as well as feeling trapped, Hermione seriously considered making her swallow her stupid heart-shaped earrings. What were they? Four year-olds?

"I don't really have a choice." She spat and turned her back on the stupid girl to stride angrily towards the apparition point. Taking her wand out of her sleeve, she spun on the spot and landed, only a second after, in the cold air of her crappy street. Wondering again how she had ended up there, as if she didn't know the answer to that, she entered the lobby of her building and climbed the flack of stairs two by two, helping herself by pulling and pushing at the banister. All she needed right now was a warm bath, a glass of wine, or maybe something stronger, and a book.

Only someone was waiting at her door. A determined and fierce set of brown eyes and a red head of hair carelessly staked in a quick ponytail, were leaning against her door, arms crossed above her chest. Ginny Weasley was a persistent specie.

"Ginny I'm ..."

"Don't. I'm sick of your lame excuses. Mom's been all over, for weeks now, waiting to hear from you. Ron's a mess. And I won't start on Harry who's right in the middle of it. You stopped answering my owls Hermione!"

"Look Ginny I don't ..."

"What? Fuck Hermione, we're family!"

"Oh, are we?" Hermione spat angrily, loosing her self-control. "Ron's _your_ family. Harry's _your_ husband. I'm your _ex_ sister-in-law."

"So what? You go through a rough patch and end it all?"

"A _rough patch_?! Fuck you Ginny!" Hurt passed through the younger Weasley's face and she swallowed before speaking again:

"I thought we were friends Hermione. Before the war, even before you dated Ron, we were friends. Doesn't all that matter to you?"

"It did. Now I just can't face it. It's over. Go back home to your husband Ginny."

"All right I'll leave you alone. But you're breaking our hearts. Here I thought all Gryffindors were brave." She challenged pushing herself off of Hermione's door with a hand. Her statement only helped Hermione's anger grow and as resentment settled in too, she couldn't refrain her words:

"I fought in a bloody fucking war Ginny! I'm just capable of letting go when I know things are over. I've learnt that the hard way but you wouldn't know anything about that! You weren't fucking there! Now go away!"

"Right." Ginny Weasley looked hurt and tears were prickling in her eyes but Hermione didn't care any more. She just wanted her gone. Her wish was granted as the usually so self-assured ginger gave up and finally walked away. Hermione hurried inside and slammed the door before Ginny could add anything, and let herself slide down the cold wood. Wine felt like useless juice, she would definitely need something stronger.

* * *

Draco opened the cabinet, retrieved an old bottle of firewhiskey and poured himself a glass. Recasting his father's company was the worst job ever. As if he needed to work. Draco had enough money to entertain himself for a few life times that he didn't need to do anything else other than drink his mind into oblivion. But of course as his father's sole heir, he'd inherited the deed, and the post-war ministry rules that came with it. And of course, his money was slowly but surely being swallowed by the dreadful company. Bearing the Malfoy name had always come with a price anyway, but the part he'd played in the war had not helped ease the Ministry's implication in the family business.

He downed his glass in two large gulps and poured himself another. Slightly tipsy and feeling a headache creep up its way at the back of his skull, Draco let himself fall back in the leather chair that faced his home mahogany desk, and pulled at his tie until the knot fell loose. Crumpling the letter he'd just received by a dirty-looking ministry owl, he grabbed his quill to write an answer. But the tip of it ripped on the new piece of parchment he'd unfolded, and he realised he was probably too drunk to keep working. He'll just stop by the Ministry in the morning without an appointment. Stacking the papers in a not-so-neat pile, he found that the invitation for commemoration day sat atop, and that he hadn't yet responded. Sighing, he gripped his quill back, dipped it in the ink pot, and had to concentrate enough to cross the box that said he would attend without a guest. He had no intention of bringing a bint that would later call her shallow company that night, a first date. Then, he pleated his eyes and scribbled something at the end that looked close enough to his signature. He called a house elf to take care of sending it off.


	2. Chapter 2

Wednesday, April 30th, 2003

Hermione felt like she'd been hit on the head with a brick. Fumbling around with a hand to set off her alarm clock, her head buried deep in her pillow and a thick strand of hair in her mouth, she growled loudly, and not in the most feminine of ways. She was still in her clothes from the day before and had passed half the night emptying every bottle containing alcohol she'd been able to get her hands on. She'd even finished an old box of liquorish chocolates.

Ron loved those treats, she hated them, she'd bought them out of habit. What a failure anyway, five poor years with Ron, _only_ a rough fucking patch apparently, and gone. It was all gone. Ron would sell the cottage they'd bought, write her a check for her share and it would be completely over.

It could have been different. If only. Too many ifs actually. So many that Hermione had to screw both her eyes with her thumbs to shake the thoughts away. It was over, why would she dwell on it?

After a very long shower and a clean set of robes, Hermione was out on the wet pavement again. That morning she contemplated the idea of just leaving. To never return. Call gibberish in the chimney as floo powder would take her far away from where she was heading. Or going the muggle way and simply buy a ticket for the next international flight at the airport.

The entrance hall of the ministry was full of people coming and going haphazardly, pushing and bumping into one another. She crept along the walls to avoid being pushed or walked on the feet again, but had to duck and turn around to avoid Caroline, the crowd seemed less annoying.

When she reached the secretary desk, the receptionist, Judith, gave her a sympathetic smile that vanished when Hermione scowled.

"Morning. Any messages?" She asked.

"Yes, two Mrs Weasley." Judith's eyes widened and she winced.

"Don't bother." Hermione cut, before she could say anything, and snatched the papers she was handing her from her hands. It was the least to say that Hermione GRANGER was not in a good mood that day.

* * *

Draco woke up in a strange position. It was the second time that month that he woke up like that. His neck cracked as he lifted his face from his desk, his muscles cramped and his back ached. The thin track of the quill he'd slept on felt like a scar on his cheek, his head was pounding furiously, and his mouth was as dry as sandpaper. He'd fallen asleep in his chair, and apparently had dropped his glass of firewhiskey on the carpet in the process. He snatched his wand from the desk and shot a tergeo at it. Rubbing his face with both hands, twice, didn't help him clear his vision, this hangover would be a hard one. He stood, went to the bathroom to take a shower, and brushed his teeth three times, the pasty feeling on his tongue a persistent parasite.

He got back to his office fastening his tie, grabbed the pile of papers he'd ended up sleeping on, and disapparated to the Ministry. Re reading the crumpled letter from the night before, he headed to the Law Enforcement department, the glow of his visitor's badge sending jolts of pain through his forehead each time it flashed.

The secretary desk was empty when he reached the right floor, nausea pointing its dirty nose from the brutal lift journey. Scowling and putting a hand to his stomach he sat in one of the chairs that lined the wall. After two minutes his patience was draining off and he stood to take a look at the corridor left to the desk. The door at the far end was ajar, and he could picture long and straight brown hair, atop a tight grey skirt. He took a few wary steps forward to get a better look, thinking he'd might as well knock or something to finally get the bint's attention.

On the office door a golden sign with black letters read:

Hermione Granger Weasley

Head-management

Department of Law Enforcement

Right, the book-worm was head. Draco had forgotten that under his annoyance at the letter he'd received from whatever subaltern of her department. All the other doors were closed though, and he needed to get to work, so he took a few more steps.

"Right, I'll take these documents then, call MacMillan at Regulation and Control he'll want to have a look at this. When is my next appointment?"

"In about a half hour, it should leave you enough time to go through these. The Prime Minister called on your attention again about the Foster case, he states it's a priority."

"I know Judith, I'll have an answer from the auror's department this afternoon. I'll go through it with him personally right after, so you'll need to cancel anything past four, I won't be able to attend."

"Noted. Is it everything Mrs Weasley?"

There was a pause. A too long pause for it not to be awkward. Draco's left eyebrow lifted in a question he couldn't form, but got an answer anyway:

"I'm sorry … I'm truly …."

"Don't. Quit treating me as a charity case Judith. I don't want nor need pity or puppy fucking eyes." _Wow._

"I'm sorry Miss Granger it's just … you look …"

"I just said enough with the misplaced pity!"

"It's not I swear! You just went through a divorce it's …"

"A divorce is not the end of the world, and it's none of your bloody business anyway."

"I know, I'm just worried." The poor bint was trembling.

"I couldn't care less Judith. We're not friends, and what happens in my personal life is none of your concern. Now get out." Harsh.

"Right _Miss Granger_ , I'll see myself out. But just so you know, people are starting to talk. You look like you're about to cry all the time."

"GODRIC'S FUCKING BEARD! Why can't everyone mind his own fucking business around here? I fought in a bloody war and was the brain to kill VOLDEMORT! I'M NOT A FUCKING PORCELAIN DOLL! NOW MIND YOUR OWN SHIT FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE!"

Wow. Draco ducked just in time to let pass a crying secretary. She ran to the lift as Draco didn't dare peek inside Granger's office. He was still wondering what to do, or if it was even wise to try to move, when Granger stormed out of her office too, banging the door closed behind her. She was about to stride past him angrily when she came to an abrupt stop, turned around, retrieved her wand so quickly Draco wondered if they were attacked, and pointed it at her own office door. The name Weasley vanished. Then she turned around, her hair flying everywhere in the process and after a step she stopped. She seemed to only notice him now, recognition hit her eyes and she frowned.

Blaise was right, she looked like shit. Draco hadn't seen her in almost a year, the last time being at commemoration. Back then he hadn't really paid her any attention, now, well, they were about a meter away and face to face. Her eyes were still red and bloodshot in what he thought to be anger, circled with a thin purple stain and her mouth set in a straight line.

"Over here." She said and strode past him, her Ministry robes brushing his cloak.

* * *

Hermione turned back around, heading downstairs to get a well deserved cup of coffee, when she realised someone was there in the corridor, his back to the wall. A tall lean figure in a dark green tie and unbuttoned heavy cloak, with a sharp nose and almost white blond hair. Malfoy? She paused.

What was he doing here? He'd probably heard the shouting from the waiting area. Whatever. Judith had probably left and she would have to handle him, since no one on that bloody floor had dared poke his head out their door to see what was going on anyway.

"Over here." She said in a strained voice and went to the secretary desk at the end of the corridor. She reckoned asking Martin to send the usual request for the regulations checking of Malfoy's company. If she remembered correctly, he had a few papers to sign, to warrant that he was still within said regulations. She usually had no contact with him whatsoever, as it was just paperwork and she had a mountain of more important cases to take care of. And a few trials too.

Scowling, she searched the drawers behind the desk, without even checking if Malfoy had followed. After a minute of rummaging through the M section she finally found what she was looking for and turned to the desk. She sat behind it and finally lifted her head to check if he was there. He was frowning and watching her warily. He'd heard, it was a certainty.

"Sit, you have to sign three of these, and since my secretary's absent, I'll wait to assert you took the time to read them." He nodded sharply, apparently having gathered his bearings. He sat facing her and she pushed the three documents to him, as well as Judith's quill and ink pot.

She studied him a few seconds while he read, his face crisped in a tight frown. She didn't think she'd ever had the opportunity to see him from such a short distance. He was, as expected, perfectly dressed and groomed but she caught a few hints of well-hidden tiredness. His eyes were rounded with a sheer purplish shadow, his neck stiff and held straight under a too tightly knotted tie, and he was gripping the paper he held so much it was crumpling under his fingers. His frown was deep, maybe he also had a headache. As she waited for him to be done, her eyes drifted to the lift, the gold from its shut doors a bit too bright for her own headache. After three minutes she propped her elbows on the desk and held her chin with her right hand, watching blankly at the mail Judith had stacked under a weight.

"Here." He said, his voice too flat for her not to notice the change. She hadn't heard it in probably years, but it was oddly devoid of its usual coldness or sneering. She cocked an eyebrow but still took the pages he'd lifted to her.

"Can't your office send these by owl?" He asked, as flatly as before.

"The law stipulates that a ministry official has to be present through your reading and I'm afraid we don't do deliveries." She simply stated.

"So, it's a no. How often is it already? Every three months?" No longer, she thought. His company had followed regulations so strictly for the past years that he'd been granted some respite, at her own initiative.

"Six, from now on." He nodded and stood to go. Hermione did the same and went the opposite direction without further talk, when she remembered her coffee.

"Hold it." She called as he was about to speak his direction in the lift.

* * *

Draco had never thought he'd see the Gryffindor book-worm so drained. It was unsettling, and had kept him from being nasty. He was still reflecting on Blaise's comments from the morning before, when she quietly called from him to hold the lift.

He did so and she joined him inside, gripped a handle and, looking at her feet, asked:

"Going off?"

"Yes."

"Atrium."

She kept her gaze low and pinched her nose between her thumb and index, frowning hard. Draco had just done that less than a minute before. Headache? Maybe she was just sick after all. That would explain the snap in her office, the secretary's unwelcome pry had surely been misplaced. Granger, whatever flaws she had, and the list was long, hadn't climbed the Ministry ranks by whining when there was work to do after all.

"Headache?" He presumed. She jumped a bit and gave him a questioning eyebrow. After about two seconds, she seemed to believe he wasn't mocking her, which surprisingly he wasn't, and lowered her face to her shoes again. She stated in that strained and slow voice:

"Hangover." Just as the lift landed in the atrium.

He was so surprised that he stayed in for a second after she'd walked off, and watched her turn right towards the cafeteria.

He had to tell Blaise. The commemoration promised, indeed, to be interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

Thursday, May 1st, 2003

Hurrying his pace down Diagon Alley, Blaise finally reached the front door to the shop he'd been planning to stop by before it closed. Then, he had to go back to the Leaky Cauldron to meet Draco who would probably wait for him again if he didn't hurry a bit more. Entering the little apothecary, Blaise crossed the distance to the counter top in two quick steps, and asked for the order he'd placed the night before. Waiting for the salesman to come back from the supply room at the back, he scanned the shelves of potion ingredients, trailing a finger on the labels. The door clicked quietly as another client entered, and peeking at his watch Blaise's patience started to shatter. He'd be late again. Turning around to call the salesman he got surprised to see that he was again face to face with the book-worm. She saw him, of course, but pretended as if there was no one there and just walked past him to the aisles. He couldn't believe she wouldn't even nod. He found himself thinking aloud:

"Seriously?"

She pretended not to hear him and kept perusing the aisle for traditional potion ingredients. Not one to appreciate being ignored, or not admired for instance, Blaise resolutely went beside her and put his hand in front of the row of ingredients she was examining.

"Evening Granger." He sneered. She let her hand drop but kept her gaze stubbornly fixed on the ingredients. After a few seconds her mouth finally opened.

"Leave me alone." She'd almost whispered it, her tone flat, as if she just didn't really care. She didn't look angry or impatient or in a hurry, she just looked blanked.

The last time Blaise had properly seen her, was at commemoration, a year prior, and all they'd exchanged had been a polite nod of acknowledgement. Blaise cocked his head to a side, trying to catch her eyes, and frowned. She looked exhausted, and blank. There was definitely something wrong with her, his guts told him so, and Blaise sensed it probably had nothing to do with the weasel. No one in the world would be that depressed over him, the idiot was as thick as a sock, and all in all too happy for his own good. He was also the most irritating and temperamental wanker Blaise had ever met. That thought made him smile, it was so easy to anger the idiot, it had become his favourite game over the years. Every time he'd been at a Ministry event he'd played it.

Shaking his head to focus again on the present matter, and seeing that she wouldn't talk any further, he blinked a few times and finally asked, his lips twisted in distaste:

"What's wrong?" She inhaled deeply and finally made eye contact.

"Nothing that concerns you. Move your hand please I'd like to buy those."

"You look like shit Granger." If he'd hoped to anger her, he'd failed miserably. She frowned and cocked her head to a side. Finally coming to whatever realisation she huffed and simply stated:

"As if you cared." Right, he didn't give a damn, so he shrugged:

"Right, I don't." She watched him expectantly but said nothing. "What?"

"Your hand." She pointed out. Blaise withdrew it and she took a few vials from the row, before starting to the counter. Not another word came out of her mouth. She paid and walked off quickly, without even a polite salute to the salesman, that seemed to have recognised her. Blaise took his order and followed.

He scowled, he was late again. At least it was what his watch pointer showed. He wondered why in hell he kept bothering with even owning one of those, since there was always something to make him late anyway. He should just stay in bed from now on. Right, if anyone wanted to see him, they could drop by. It would avoid running into a golden arse every other day too.

* * *

Hermione had hoped that she wouldn't encounter anyone shopping this late, but apparently she had used up all her luck. Crossing path with Zabini twice the same week was a first, and enough for a lifetime. The tall idiot was persistent in his wish to make her speak. She'd thought she'd made it clear that she didn't want to have anything to do with him whatsoever, but apparently being ignored wasn't his favourite game. Sighing, she walked back slowly to the Leaky Cauldron, made her way through the brick wall that kept Diagon Alley shut to the world, and was instantly assaulted by the thick hubbub of patrons deep in vivid conversations.

The place wasn't half as full as it used to constantly be few years prior, but accustoms kept coming by even on work nights, and passers-by always stopped there on their way in or out Diagon Alley.

Slipping through the little crowd gathered around the counter, she caught Tom's glance who greeted her with a quick and respectful nod she returned. He was the first person she responded to in quite some time. But to her defence, Tom had always been respectful and was not one to pry or ask too many questions. He usually just nodded and she always returned the politeness.

Turning her face back to the door she caught a flash of bright blond hair, and linking it with Zabini, felt a sudden urge to just run away. Which she practically did, knocking a woman with a tall purple hat off her feet before reaching the door.

Her headache had only passed in the afternoon, but drenched from the day and, if she were totally honest with herself, sad and depressed, all she wanted at that moment was a drink. Having emptied all her not-so-full cupboards two nights before she realised she'd have to go out. The Leaky Cauldron was not an option plus, there was always some kind of reporter lurching in the corners, so she thought of Hogsmeade. Why not see if the Three Broomsticks was less crowded? Surely, as it was almost the end of term, there wouldn't be any professors around, nor any student sneaking out. She'd probably be at peace for a little while.

* * *

Blaise was late again. Had he ever been on time for anything anyway? Nope. Never.

Scowling, Draco decided to order without waiting for him and lifted his face from his knuckles, just as Tom was nodding politely to a patron. He followed instinctively the bald man's stare and felt his eyebrows raise to his hairline. _Again_?

Blaise entered from the back door, about three steps after the famous book-worm, his eyes fixed on her back with a confused frown. Draco got under the strange impression that she was running away from him. Suspicion that only confirmed itself as she knocked someone off her path to hurry out.

Blaise finally sought him out as the door banged behind the hungover Granger, and walked in a middle of a round of patrons to come and sit on the free stool next to him.

"Girls running away from you now?" Draco didn't wait to point out.

"You seen? How …"

"She's probably hangover." Draco smirked and Blaise's eyes widened to the approximate size of a plate.

"How would you know?" He frowned.

"I had to sign the regulations papers yesterday, and she took care of it."

"And?"

"Why's she running away from you?"

"I'll tell if you do."

"All right."

* * *

Hermione apparated next to the Three Broomsticks, but thought it wise to peer inside from the window before entering. Merlin she was grateful for her cautious brain. First, she hadn't remembered Rosmerta, and as nice as the witch was, she'd probably ask too many questions, second, Hagrid was in there with Neville. Sighing, she went for her last option, Hog's Head, since there was no way in hell she was setting foot at Madam Puddifoot's. Passing a closed Zonko's and the post office, she walked slowly to the far end of the village. The wind was a bit chilly for this time of year but, wandering alone in fresh air was relaxing, especially after such a day.

She'd found herself face to face with Caroline first thing in the morning, then she'd argued, or better screamed like a banshee at Judith, AGAIN, then she'd had yet another sodding meeting with all her department, and then crossed path with Zabini, again. The day had been long. She entered the pub and was welcome with a piercing pair of questioning blue eyes. Aberforth Dumbledore wouldn't ask though, he'd probably guess. She approached the counter, behind which he was stacking clean glasses.

"Need a drink?" Even if it sounded like a question, Hermione knew it wasn't really. She nodded:

"Firewhiskey." He obliged and she took her glass to sit in a corner of the room, away from the non-existent prying eyes.

She had down three of these and was just starting on the fourth when she got confirmation that Merlin had forsaken her, and that she'd never be lucky in anything in her life again. A tall raven haired man sat abruptly in the chair facing her, his face surprised, a firm and well-practised smirk plastered on his mouth. Hermione recognised him from Hogwarts, even if she'd never talked to him, his long hair and pale complexion were unmistakable. Theodore Nott. Before he could say anything though she exploded for the second time that day:

"Is this some kind of sick joke?"

"Well hello to you too."

"I'm serious. Is this the Slytherin encounter week or something? Zabini, then Malfoy, then Zabini again, now Nott, then what?"

"Parkinson?" Answered a feminine voice Hermione remembered perfectly. Pansy Parkinson joined her too at the table and put down two glasses for Nott and herself.

Closing her eyes and rubbing her face in both hands, Hermione wished them gone, aloud, and hoped to be hallucinating. But she wasn't of course.

"What're you doing here Granger?" Pansy Parkinson seemed to be sincerely wondering, and Nott was watching her with interest, as if she'd been some sort of new magical specie. Hermione sighed and stood.

"I'm going home." She droned.

"Your glass is full." The witch said. Hermione didn't sit back down anyhow, grabbed her glass, downed it in two large and painful gulps, then stormed out of the pub. She heard Nott call after her but ignored it, and once safely outside, did something she usually never did. She disapparated even if she felt a bit too tipsy to avoid the risks of splinching herself to death.

She went straight to bed, her head buzzing with memories she had no wish to remember, ever.

* * *

"Can't picture getting rid of the weasel to be such a woe, something's off." Concluded Blaise, his face torn between worry, and disgust at actually being worried. Draco chose to lighten the mood, it wasn't like the both of them to even talk about the prude golden arse, admitting something was off, which was certainly the case, was well enough.

"Maybe he was _that_ good in bed. Never know, with the lights off …" He sneered. Blaise chuckled, incredulous, shaking his head in denial:

"Yeah right, and I'm ugly."

"Anyway there's nothing we can do, or nothing I'm willing to do whatsoever so …"

"Right. It's just odd, I kinda feel like I should do something." Blaise said, his face screwing in a mix of actual _worry_ and something else Draco considered to be madness.

"Right, you've lost it." He concluded.

"No, look I saw her talk with my grandma a few months before she died. Apparently she made pass a whole bunch of regulations just to help our company after the war." He started explaining, as if it could possibly justify the _worry_. "My grandma wanted to be rid of all the dark arts branches in the family business and they worked together for some time. Now that I own it, she's lowered the controls and given us more freewill."

"Really?" Draco startled. "Wait, that's her decisions?"

"Yeah it is." Blaise nodded. "You know that half the regulations on your company today are her idea?"

Why wasn't Draco surprised, and why hadn't he realised it before?

"I didn't know. Now that you say it, yesterday morning she said that from now on I'll only have to go there every six months. It was three the last time I checked, think she decided that just this morning?"

"Perhaps." Blaise shrugged. "You said you usually never see her, maybe when she saw you she thought …"

"Right maybe it's just because she saw my face and never wants to see it again."

"That sure played a part." Blaise smirked. "But it's more likely to be because you strictly followed every regulations she's installed."

"Right I did. This company had never been cleaner than since I took the lead. You must be right, I don't see Granger mixing work and old school rivalries anyway."

"Yeah. She's not one to mess with work. Which is why something's off, if she drinks during the week and starts yelling at receptionists …"

"I've been drinking during the week for the past 4 years and my company's just fine Blaise. We'll see tomorrow anyway. I bet the weasel is a mess …"

"Can't wait to see that. Maybe she'll yell at him too!" Blaise's enthusiastic smirk was very welcome.


	4. Chapter 4

Friday, May 2nd, 2003.

Commemoration day, part one: before the encounter.

Hermione woke up with a hangover she hadn't had the chance to perfect the night before. It basically meant just a headache. But she'd bought everything she'd need for a pepper up potion the evening before anyway and had set her alarm clock early just to brew one. Which she did first thing, and bottled enough for three times, as she sensed the upcoming night would be relatively difficult.

Then she took a proper shower, got ready, grabbed the plastic bag that contained her one good dress, some heels, and after buttoning her ministry robes, apparated straight outside of the ministry.

She dialled the code in the red telephone booth and heard her usual welcome. She managed to get to her office and close the door behind her without a single word unwillingly extracted from her mouth, and lost herself in work.

The only time she interrupted herself was when she had to sign a few reports from Zabini's company. She remembered precisely every time she'd gone to these offices, to meet with Mrs Zabini. The first time she'd met the old witch though, the Lady had booked an appointment at the Ministry. Hermione hadn't been head yet but a few month away from it only, so she'd already had quite a few responsibilities. The elder and well mannered witch had entered her office with elegance and sat right away, before going straight to the point of her visit.

She'd wanted to be rid of anything dark magic related that, as she'd stated herself, "polluted" her estate, now that the war was over, and that she could without having fear of retaliations. Hermione, who had already been working on exactly the matter with her superiors and, in direct collaboration, Kingsley Shackelbolt, who had been Prime Minister since the war, had accepted.

They'd both worked together for a year, and built out a project outlining a series of regulations and laws, the Wizengamot couldn't refuse. Of course being Hermione Granger had helped, at least with the public opinion. She'd been nominated head of the department shortly after the Wizengamot's acceptance.

Since then, she'd kept the Ministry's nose, or more hers, in almost every pure-blooded lead company that had outworn the war. She'd lowered the controls and reports the past few years, as those company were now clean, and for the most part, their heads were behaving.

The old Mrs Zabini had passed away a year prior, and Hermione had been cordially invited to the funeral. She'd come to respect the witch greatly and had been pained to learn she'd passed away. She'd stayed at the far end of the procession during the funeral though, feeling out of place. Apparently the witch had been well appreciated among her pears too and the crowd had been gigantic. So, she'd just hidden herself at the end of it. She had only caught a quick glance at Zabini, and now that she thought about it, Malfoy had been there too.

But what twisted her heart a bit at this memory was the reason why she'd started to like Mrs Zabini.

The memory was as fresh in her mind as if it'd happened the day before, but Hermione couldn't think of that now. She had papers to send, a trial to prepare and a lot of reports to finish. Plus, she had to call Judith and she dreaded even the sight of the stupid woman.

* * *

Draco was still in over his head with this new supplier contract when Blaise entered his office without knocking.

"What're you doing here?" He asked.

"Came pick you up." Blaise answered as if it were perfectly normal.

"I'm not your date."

"Yes, I know. I don't have one, I told you I'd have a go at the younger Greengrass."

"And you thought going there with me would help? At best I'll get her, and you'll end up back at Daphne's." Draco smirked.

"No, Daphne's not coming, she's sick."

Draco didn't even want to know, Blaise's smirk was so mischievous he'd better not get involved.

"Ah. I'll get ready then." Draco concluded.

They apparated outside the Ministry around seven in the afternoon, just in time. They were both received with a check of their wand for invitation and a sharp nod from a tight-faced Ministry official. As usual the event took place in the large reception room of the second floor and people had already gathered around the lifts.

It took ten bloody minutes to get into one, and once they landed at the right floor, ten more to actually move to the room.

As usual, Draco recognised most of the faces present there, among old Hogwarts acquaintances, were mingled Order members, Aurors and other Ministry officials, and professors. He caught sight of Minerva McGonagall, apparently having a content talk with the gigantic and shaggy Rubeus Hagrid at the back of the room, before he could point anyone else.

Blaise lead their way to the middle of the room, where rows of white chairs had been aligned, and few people already sat. He recognised Longbottom and Lovegood, McMillan, Chang and Goldstein, all gathered in a round, apparently laughing. Some of them had brought their spouses, apparently.

He scanned the room some more as Blaise did too, probably in search of Greengrass. There weren't so many Slytherins gathered but he bowed his head a bit at Parkinson's sight, he had no wish to torture himself, though his hair was probably betraying him anyway.

Then, there, a flash of red hair. Another, and another. The entire tribe was there, mingled with former Gryffindors. Johnson, Bell (shit), Jordan, the Weasley twin that hadn't died, and another older Weasley were in deep conversation. A few steps at their left, the parents, another older Weasley with long hair, Fleur Delacour, whom the long haired one had married, and their daughter gripping her hand, were talking to the real weasel, the atrocious Ronald. Potter was not far from them, a wary look behind his glasses, mingling with Thomas, Finnigan, Wood and his wife, the weaslette was there as well, holding her baby Potter tightly in her arms.

Turning his head away from the mingling groups, Draco caught Shackelbolt's stare and they nodded in polite acknowledgement. At his side were Hestia Jones, the Auror that had investigated the Manor after the war, Diggle or Dingle or whatever, Fletcher and the Longbottom grand mother, who were arguing loudly about something, wriggling their arms and hands like gesticulating monkeys. Their argument ended sharply, and the old lady laughed. They all followed. Disturbing.

Greengrass had apparently not arrived yet, and Draco smirked:

"No little bird eh? Maybe try for Abbott over there, I think she grew tired of Longbottom."

"Shut up."

The first, beside Shackelbolt, to seem to notice their presence was Slughorn. His old wrinkled face arboured a honeyed smile that fit well with his rather large stomach as he hobbled over them.

"Mr Malfoy! Mr Zabini! What a pleasure to see friendly Slytherin representatives. We're outnumbered it seems!"

Draco tried three times to cut the irritating chatter before finally managing to set free of the old leech.

"Salazar he never stops talking!" He complained once they were free.

"Yeah, that old bat. Can't find Greengrass anywhere." Blaise had kept perusing the place the entire conversation and seemed to be loosing his patience.

"Maybe she's sick too." Draco smirked. Blaise's eyes widened a moment and he seemed to think.

"Shit." He muttered. Draco chuckled:

"Want me to call Parkinson for you?"

"Err, no thanks. I'd rather go for Nott. He's there."

"Err … " Draco grimaced but Blaise was already on his way.

They strode to Theodore Nott and exchanged faked friendly pleasantries until Parkinson poked her ugly nose again, holding two glasses of whatever.

"Draco, Blaise, finished avoiding me already?"

"Not quite, now that you're here actually, I'll go." Sneered Draco, actually being honest and taking a step away.

"Good." She hissed at his back.

"Where did you get these?" Asked Blaise and she wrinkled her nose towards the far right of the room, where a bar had been settled.

"Do stay there." She sneered. "That's where the hopeless cases are."

* * *

Hermione had arrived early to the commemoration, hoping to go unnoticed in the crowd of Ministry officials taking care of the event. She'd been forced to politely acknowledge all of them though, one by one. But at least when she saw familiar faces come in, she was at the far end of the room, near the bar, hidden behind the crowd which had lost interest in her to go salute the newly arrived. In an attempt to stay in the shadows until the speeches ended, which would be a reasonable time for her to sneak out quietly, she'd braided her hair tightly, rolled it in a bun, all of that after applying about six bottles of Sleekeazy's. She was pleased to say that she looked like someone else.

It wasn't until she heard Ron's guttural laugh among the incessant chatter that she scowled, and finally took the single step that kept her away from a drink.

 _Ron's a mess_ , her arse.

"A firewhiskey." She droned to the bartender, a tall and skinny guy she'd never seen before. Good.

He nodded and obliged, but just as she was about to touch the glass with her bottom lip, she got interrupted.

"For Salazar's sake Granger, the party's not even started yet." Parkinson, of course. What next, Zabini? Nott? Malfoy? She didn't answer and took a first sip at her drink. Except the nasty woman sat down next to her. Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes.

"Two firewhiskeys please." Parkinson waited for her order, watching Hermione openly, while Hermione herself could very well see her from the corner of her eyes. The annoying ex-Slytherin started tapping her too sharp nails against the wooden bar, as a smirk slowly started on her pug-nosed face. Hermione took a deep breath not to make her stop by throwing her drink right in her face.

"Is this annoying you?" The witch taunted. Hermione kept her mouth shut, but she felt a slow bout of anger creep up her lungs.

"Are you mute?" That was enough.

"Fuck off Parkinson." She hissed quietly.

"Wow, rude. I'd never imagined the golden girl could speak like that. What's happened? Did your favourite weasel dump you?" Hermione couldn't help but chuckle, her anger vanished. The woman was as petty and shallow as she'd been at Hogwarts. It was ridiculous.

"You're pathetic Pansy." She said just when the bartender was putting the two glasses she's ordered on the bar before her.

"Oh but I think you're the pathetic thing right now, look at yourself Granger …" She started but got cut by the bartender:

"I think she told you to fuck off Parkinson."

Pansy's eyes widened and she half-stood angrily:

"How dare you …"

"Shut it. Or do you want me to remind everyone around here about your role during the battle we're commemorating right now?" That shut the bint's mouth for sure. And it caught Hermione's interest right away. Parkinson grabbed her drinks angrily, spilling some of it on the bar as she did, and strode away, her cheeks a nice deep red colour. Hermione felt like she had to say something, even though she could have shut Parkinson's mouth by herself:

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." The bartender smiled and extended his hand to her. Hermione almost sighed but shook it and nodded as he introduced himself:

"Peregrine Derrick, I guess you don't remember." Hermione frowned. Derrick, she definitely knew that name.

"Didn't you play Quidditch for the Slytherin team?"

"Yes, beater."

"Ah." Hermione returned her attention to her drink, another bloody Slytherin. What was he even doing here? She frowned further in her glass but tried to end the conversation before it started by keeping her gaze still on the amber liquid.

"I'm benevolent here." He continued. "Wasn't there for the battle, me dad was though, he's in Azkaban now."

So apparently he didn't get the hint.

"Sorry for you." She droned, now watching the veins in the wooden bar. It was a nice oak colour, even if she doubted it to be real oak. Maybe a boosting charm?

"Yeah well it's all right, I was never really close to him anyway. Plus, I've never wanted to be a death eater, trying to prove I'm not like that scum over there since the war."

"Great." She muttered. The bar was as boring as this conversation and she took interest at a thin thread that poke out the sleeve of her dress. She didn't want to pull at it, it could unpick the entire sleeve's hem. Derrick kept speaking, more to himself she realised as he propped his elbows on the bar so, she retrieved her wand and magically cut the annoying thread. Then she grabbed her drink again, and as he was now speaking about his Quidditch abilities - never recognised by any professional team - she decided to drown herself in the glass.

She was saved – that word deserved a big fat snort – from her ordeal by a now familiar voice she appreciated as much as Derrick's.

"Hey Dicky! Where's your double?"


	5. Chapter 5

Friday, May 2nd, 2003.

Commemoration day, part 2: the encounter.

Draco watched with a strange fascination Blaise jump in to save Granger from Derrick's annoying constant babble. He stayed a few steps away though.

"Bole and I are not friends any more." Derrick answered him.

"Oh really? Did you tell that to Granger yet or are you planning on telling her the entire family history first?" Blaise smirked. The lad had some talent. Derrick went red from head to toe in a matter of seconds.

"Two firewhiskeys please." He added with a smirk, and the idiot ex-beater stumbled a bit on his feet before going a few steps away to do his job. Draco couldn't help but chuckle. He saw Granger frown then, but she didn't lift her eyes from her drink and pretended they were not there.

She'd managed her hair in a tight braided bun at the back of her head that made her look like a totally different person. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Draco signed for Blaise, with the tip of his nose, to go sit somewhere else. Blaise shook his head and sat next to her anyway. Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. After all, if Blaise angered her, she might scream at the weasel later. He went to sit next to his friend.

Derrick brought two glasses and seemed to hesitate whether to say something to Granger or to piss his pants.

"Go away Dicky." Sighed Blaise. As the older Slytherin did as bid, head bowed, Draco chuckled again. Granger didn't say anything. Which was weird in itself, Blaise was bullying the guy. Draco remembered very precisely a small and bossy know-it-all fiercely defending bullied first years.

"So, Granger? Still not speaking to me? I just saved you, you know." Said Blaise shifting on his stool to look at her. Draco propped his elbows on the bar, nursing his drink, keeping an eye on the exchange. She didn't move, she didn't frown, she just finished her drink. She set the glass down on the counter and righted her dress, about to leave.

"Oh come on! What have I done to you? I'm not nearly as annoying as Dicky!" Blaise exclaimed, visibly frustrated with her behaviour.

She smiled, a tiny and faked smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"I just want a little bit of peace and quiet." She droned and stood from her seat.

"What's happened to you?" Blaise's voice had become serious all of a sudden and she abruptly lifted her face to look at him. Draco couldn't help but turn to her too. She seemed to be examining Blaise's face closely for a moment, then she frowned deeply.

"You have your grand-mother's eyes." She said. Draco could only see Blaise's back but he heard him clear his throat awkwardly. This statement was beyond unexpected and odd. She kept looking at him with a thoughtful expression until he finally answered.

"Err … I guess."

"She was a really attentive person too, I'm sorry she passed away." She said, her eyes lowered to the stool she'd stood from. Draco realised her frown was a sad one. Granger had probably bounded with the old lady through work.

"Err … Thanks Granger." She finally turned her back on them, just to sit back down a few stools away.

"What the fuck was that about?" Asked Draco. "She's nuts."

"I don't think she is." Said Blaise, lowering his face to his drink before taking a few large gulps of it. "And something's definitely happened to her. I bet my grandma knew what."

"Really?" Draco was sceptical but Blaise's face told the truth when he nodded.

"Think the weasel did something?" Draco added.

"Maybe." The last syllable went out his mouth slowly, as Blaise saw something behind Draco's shoulder.

"I'll be right back." He said and Draco turned around to see where he was going. Greengrass. Great. Draco scowled and went back to his own drink.

* * *

Hermione couldn't deny that Blaise Zabini had taken her attention. She saw him stand and strode to Astoria Greengrass. Apparently he was living up to his reputation. He'd left a scowling Malfoy behind. The blond ferret was nursing his drink with an angry frown when the speeches were introduced by Kingsley Shackelbolt. It was the first smile she caught herself pulling in a while. Hermione decided to stay there, and just turn around on her stool to watch, and apparently the ferret had taken the same decision. Kingsley called Minerva McGonagall to speak first. Soon it would be Harry and Ron's turn, and she would be able to go home.

The ex-transfiguration teacher, now head-mistress of Hogwarts spoke of friendship and unity, of recovery, and moving through past mistakes to a brighter future. She spoke of her students, and her attempts at house unity through competition and games. Apparently she'd set up some sort of intellectual competition among students the past few years, where they had to pair up in every task with a student from a different house. Hermione heard a snort at her right and knew exactly what Malfoy was thinking.

Such competition would have been a disaster when they'd been at Hogwarts. Hermione imagined herself being paired up with Goyle, or Zabini, or worse Parkinson and couldn't repress a shiver. She understood all too well why this sort of competition was good for the post-war students though, as it would help prevent prejudice, but for her generation, the very idea of such a thing could have led to catastrophe.

Throwing a quick glance at Malfoy she froze. He was watching her with a small smirk. He must have seen her ugly grimace at McGonagall's words. Whatever. The head-mistress went down the small stage and returned to her seat under applause, Hermione forced herself to clap her hands in politeness. Then Kingsley called Ron.

Hermione saw his back walk slowly to the stage, his usual redness creeping up the back of his neck. When he reached the stage she finally saw his face. He was grinning shyly and scanning the room.

Hermione lowered herself on her stool. Of course she heard Malfoy's chuckle as she did so, and of course she ignored it. She damned herself for finishing her glass too quickly as there was no way to hide behind it now. Ron didn't see her though, and she sighed in relief as he started speaking.

He spoke of friendship and support during hard times and Hermione couldn't help her starting anger. He did so with a small smile, nodding to the little crowd at the left. Hermione craned up her neck and caught a few flashes of red hair. Scowling, she saw him toy with his ring finger, as he started speaking about bravery.

He was pretty much showing himself off as a sort of victim of a tragic event, from which he'd recovered thanks to his family and friends, all the while toying with his bloody ring finger. He concluded his speech by linking his recovery to the war, saying it was time to move on, but never to forget. Or whatever, she wasn't really listening any more.

Hermione felt targeted by his entire speech and Ginny's words resounded in her head.

 _Here I thought all Gryffindors were brave._

So it was what they all thought then? The Weasleys thought of her as a coward, running away after _a rough patch_. She shook her head in disappointment. She should have know she'd never be a real part of this family. She'd felt it at Fred's funeral, as she'd stayed at the back alone. She'd felt it when Molly had criticised her wedding dress. She'd felt it when things had started to go wrong and all the support she'd gotten had been from Mrs Zabini. She should have known.

Harry was the last one to speak before the party started. He walked to the stage with a serious expression, it was evident he disliked the attention. Usually Hermione would have smiled at his discomfort but his green gaze fell directly on her behind his round glasses and he tried for a smile. Every one turned their head to see who the hero was smiling to and Hermione had no choice but to give the smile back when she felt like running away, possibly stopping by him to slap his little scarred face on her way out. She kept looking only at him and when he started speaking, everyone's attention returned to him. Not that she spared a glance to anyone.

She turned back on her stool and signed Derrick for another drink. The ex-beater obliged quietly and as she sipped at the liquor she tried not to listen to Harry. His speech was about finding each other in the darkest of times. To reach for the others to overcome difficulty. He even quoted Dumbledore. _Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one remembers to turn on the light._ Fantastic. Sinking deeper in her drink, she snorted. If that wasn't directed at her she wondered what was.

What was she supposed to do? Go to family Sunday brunches? With her ex-husband? And his disapproving family?

* * *

Potter and the weasel were two sombre idiots, but that wasn't something new. It was evident their speeches had addressed Granger, even the thickest of trolls could have seen that.

Blaise had eventually come back to sit next to Draco, a shy Astoria Greengrass on his arm but they weren't paying attention to anything else other than their whispered conversation.

When Potter quoted Dumbledore as he always did, he heard a snort. And not a subtle one. Granger had turned her back on the speaker and was apparently trying to drown herself in her drink. Blaise was right, something was off.

The speeches finally ended and all were invited to come grab a drink and some food. When everyone stood, the chairs magically disappeared, and a buffet appeared instead, on tables neatly set along the walls. As half the guest went there, the other half came to the bar and Draco stood to go somewhere else. He turned his head to the left and Granger was already gone.

Blaise and Greengrass followed him as he moved to the less crowded table. A part of the red tribe passed by them and Potter crossed eyes with Draco. He nodded in polite but suspicious acknowledgement, as he always did. It was insufferable and presumptuous but Draco wasn't one to cause a scene in hostile territory, so he nodded back with an icy glare and they passed them.

They reached the table without a single confrontation, which was serious improvement compared to the precedent years. Draco and Blaise were choosing something to mop up the alcohol from their system when Greengrass called loudly:

"Hermione!" Both men startled and looked at each other in utter bewilderment before incredulously turning their gaze to the younger Greengrass. _Hermione_?

"Err …" Reluctance was written all over the book-worm's features as she turned around to face her caller. She'd been a step away from the door.

* * *

Parkinson, Derrick, Zabini, Malfoy and now Greengrass. Hell had broken loose. Greengrass worked at the ministry for the improper use of magic office and Hermione worked with her regularly. The younger witch was definitely not a blood supremacist, and was fair and hard working but Hermione had no wish to speak with her whatsoever, since she'd been about to discreetly sneak out the door.

"Astoria?" She asked reluctantly as the raven haired pretty witch joined her at the door, leaving two other former Slytherins completely confused and agape at the buffet table.

"I know it's probably not a good time but have you received my letter about the last control I've been the subject of?"

That rang a bell. Greengrass had been controlled on her work on a particular case that somehow was liked to the trial Hermione was preparing. It had nothing to do with her anyhow, just the case she'd worked on. But Hermione couldn't remember reading a letter.

"I didn't get a chance yet." She said, hoping to cut the matter but Greengrass wasn't hearing it like that.

"I have trouble understanding why your office would investigate a Ministry official on a case that is strictly criminal. Am I suspected of anything?" Her tone was flat, and almost as friendly as it always was, but Hermione sensed a bit of tension behind it and decided that she should put aside her wish to run away to reassure the woman.

"Of course not Astoria. It's the potion testing case you worked on we were interested in. It might have a link with a trial I'm preparing."

"Oh. Would you like me to send my reports to your office then?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Noted. It would have been a little easier to just ask you know." She frowned disapprovingly.

"I know but I couldn't." Hermione explained. "We have to follow the laws scrupulously for this trial. It's a really delicate case. I couldn't just talk to you, I had to do it the proper way."

"Oh, I understand then. You'll have my reports first thing Monday morning."

"Perfect." Hermione nodded and the pretty witch started away with a smile.

* * *

Draco watched the exchange with much surprise. The two women called each other by their first names, and Granger had answered Greengrass' questions right away. They seemed to be in good terms, which was surprising when you heard how vehemently Daphne Greengrass spoke about the Gryffindor bint, as she called her. Her younger sister seemed to have a more tempered opinion of the bushy-haired book-worm.

When Greengrass came back to them, Granger had already disappeared through the doors and left the party.

"You know her?" Asked Blaise.

"We work together sometimes, she's nice." Stated Greengrass with a shrug.

"Not to me." Muttered Blaise.

"Why would she be? You called her mudblood for years." Greengrass' statement was unexpected to say the least. Draco felt somehow targeted by it too and didn't appreciate the accusing tone the witch used.

"I reckon your sister did too." Countered Blaise.

"My sister's always been a bit stupid. We don't believe in those things in the family and Hermione's a fair woman I respect a lot. "

Blaise didn't get a chance to explain himself, and all his chances of sleeping in the little bird's bed that night vanished, as she angrily strode away from them.

Blaise seemed to decide she wasn't worth running after. Up until she started dancing. At that moment he joined her and Draco watched him justify and explain himself with seductive grins and moves from his stool.

All in all, Draco felt a bit disappointed as he apparated back to the manor that night. Though the evening's lack of confrontation had been a respite from years of having to justify his presence to such events, he had expected the golden trio to at least bicker.

Their usual perfect picture of friendship had been slightly shattered as Granger hadn't been part of the usual red tribe crowd, but then the news of her divorce was all over the papers. Anyhow it hadn't been sufficient to break their perfect little picture of friendship, Potter and his bloody smiles at her had vanished people's doubts.

His tipsy mind reflected on the evening a moment, and especially the odd behaviour he'd been the only one to witness from his bar stool. Granger had clearly expressed her incredulity at Potter's tries to reunite the golden thirds. It had been strange to see her sink on her stool grimacing at the weasel - whom she'd been married to for years – or turn her back to Potter to empty a glass firewhiskey in two large gulps without even wincing afterwards.

It had taken Draco many tries to be able to keep his smirking mask on when he drank a glass of firewhiskey in one shot. And it was the bloody book-worm! Uptight, rule maker, ministry head of department, golden arse Granger! He needed to know what was going on with her.


	6. Chapter 6

Monday, May 5th, 2003.

Hermione walked down that day's newly dry pavement, around six in the morning. She was early for work, as she now was every Monday after a boring and depressing week-end on her own. Her smart leather shoes clicked on the slabs in an unusual clear sound and the dry but still chilly wind kept irritatingly blowing in her hair, sweeping strands of curls back in her sight every time she pushed them away. The city was silent and still asleep when she reached the corner of the Ministry's street, her head full of numb thoughts. As always she went for the visitor's entrance, which gave less chance to familiar encounter and entered the red telephone booth.

Once having passed the quiet atrium and taken the lift, she reached Judith's empty desk and grabbed a few papers to add to the ones she was carrying from home. Of course she'd worked all week-end, it had kept her mind off of things. Since Judith wasn't there yet, she decided to check the day's appointments herself on the woman's book. She had a very full day ahead of her.

Determined to keep herself on track, she went for her office, unbuttoned her robes and sat at her desk that wasn't as neat as usual.

Astoria Greengrass was definitely a hard working woman too and an early bird, for the reports she'd agreed to send were on Hermione's desk. The witch was already at the Ministry.

Reading through what she'd sent took most of her morning, and when eleven o'clock arrived, Judith still hadn't made an appearance, probably vexed by their previous arguments. Hermione thanked Astoria via a flying note, along with a few questions she had, and worked on something else.

The response didn't take long.

 _Care to join me at the cafeteria to discuss these? Would be easier than via notes but I don't have any other spare time. Say in twenty minutes?_

Hermione considered declining the invitation but as she needed answers, sent only one word in return: _agreed_. After all they'd only talk work, and as it would only be eleven thirty, she might not encounter anyone else at the cafeteria.

At eleven thirty sharp, both women were punctually meeting there. Both had their arms full of files. They sat at a corner of the large room, and after retrieving what could look like a dieting lunch to anyone else, but was more of a quick fix to get back to work quickly, they started talking business.

Astoria was as professional as she'd always been, and Hermione appreciated greatly her lack of personal discussion. Therefore they'd quickly reviewed everything that had to be, and found themselves only having to eat earlier than anticipated. Astoria seemed to sense that Hermione was not in for conversation, so they ate in companionable silence.

Of course, everything couldn't stay quiet and peaceful as Hermione wished things to be. She had her back to the room though, and it was Astoria's mouth scowl that made her turn around. Ron.

Hermione sighed but didn't get time to stand up and go that he was at their table already, ignoring Astoria as if she were part of the wall, his face set in a straightly disappointed expression.

"You keep avoiding me Hermione." His voice was slightly pained but remembering the way he'd toyed with his ring finger in a public display of their divorce during commemoration night, started a slow boil of anger within Hermione. She opened her mouth to dismiss him harshly but was ripped of her chance to do so by Astoria.

"Then why don't you take the hint and leave her alone?" Her tone was neither aggressive nor mean, it was explanatory at best. Hermione was so taken aback that her mouth fell agape as she gave her the wide-eyes. Her response was a small cornered smile and Hermione got reminded that the witch had been a Slytherin at Hogwarts. It was not yet a full smirk but it was an intentionally hidden one. Ron's mouth twisted and his brows joined in anger as he turned to the pretty woman.

"Mind your own business Greengrass."

"Be polite she's only stating the evident." Hermione cut dryly. "I have no wish to speak to you Ron."

" _Why?_ We have to discuss …" This time she cut him, lifting a hand to his face.

"No we don't. We've said it whole and I'm tired of trying to fix things. I wish to be left in peace." She said, her voice rising towards the end. She was becoming to tremble in anger as he yet again opened his mouth to argue. Astoria raised her voice too then:

"What is it you don't understand Weasley? We're working, now is not the time for personal matters. _Please_ leave us alone." She'd emphasised and spoke the last bit louder, making people startle around them. Hermione disliked the attention a lot but Ron finally seemed to realise they had an audience and with a "As you wish." Spat between clenched teeth, walked away.

It was only then that Astoria smirked for real, watching Ron's retreating back. She didn't ask any questions though, and went back to what little was left of her lunch.

Hermione suddenly felt like smiling. Or more smirking. She barely knew the witch but she'd sensed Hermione's state of mind about Ron, and she'd also sneakily backed her up. The Slytherin qualities had showed in the woman's smirk and Hermione found out that she'd sadistically enjoyed sending him away with support.

The last time he'd cornered her, had been in the corridor to the Minister's office, and it had taken her way too many words to be rid of him. Two sentences from Astoria and he'd walked away.

"Thanks." Hermione finally said. Astoria lifted a piercing gaze to her and smiled.

"Got a smile out of you. Are you sure you were a Gryffindor Hermione?"

Hermione chuckled at her own surprise. She hadn't for a while and it was refreshing.

"Damn sure." She found herself smiling. Astoria's own smile didn't deflate as she offered:

"What do you say we grab a drink some time? I won't ask." It was as if she knew already, and Hermione's answer left her lips on its own volition.

"Why not."

"I'll owl. See you." With that Astoria was gone and Hermione realised she'd accepted an invitation from a Slytherin, smiled and almost laughed, all that after harshly dismissing Ron.

Striding back to her office she found that she didn't really care. Astoria didn't have the same pitiful look everyone arboured around her recently and as she couldn't bear with the sight of her friends any longer, she decided that maybe it was time to make a change.

After all, her life had taken a turn for good, and maybe she should stop dwelling on her thoughts and feelings. Maybe she could focus on something else than work for one evening. Astoria had said she wouldn't ask and Hermione was confident that the witch would keep her word.

* * *

Draco walked out of work that Monday afternoon, having spent the morning in his company's office instead of his home one. He'd spent a large portion of his time in a dreadful meeting with ex-associates that wished to renew their old business bonds with the Malfoy company. Now that he'd apparated back to his home office he had to check that he could indeed associate with them, without stepping out of regulations. Some of the men that had been pleading their cause that day had partnered with his father and therefore were certainly untrustworthy to follow the law.

When he'd taken the lead of his father's company, Draco had realised it was rotten. Rotten to death in the dark arts, mingled in a bunch of illegal practises from centuries of scam business. He'd recast it entirely on his own and had no wish to start over whatsoever thanks to one hazardous business association. He had a week worth of work at hands and with a glass of firewhiskey for his lacking courage, started right away.

But after about ten minutes buried in the dreadful documents, he had an idea that would surely save him the chore of reviewing all potential associates and would also maybe satisfy the curiosity he'd been left with after commemoration night. Dipping his quill in ink, he grabbed a new piece of parchment from his top drawer and started writing.

 _Miss Granger,_

 _I write with a request in mind. I wish to book an appointment with you, as I found myself in a delicate situation regarding my company's associations._

 _As you know, I have all but disregarded the laws and regulations the Wizengamot has put in place post-war. However, my company mostly thrives via associations and I find myself at an impasse. Most of the potential associates that are offering their services to my company this year are old ones from prior the war, some I had discharged when I took the lead. As it is to your knowledge too, the precedent owner of the company had no regard for the law and those associations were wronging the family business._

 _The issue resides in the fact that they claim, as of today, to be clear of any business outside the law. Verifying such affirmations without the support of the Ministry's controls reports could lead nowhere, and would assuredly take months to achieve with certainty._

 _I wish to discuss those potential future associations with you, as it is my only wish to remain in the clear, and to make sure that my company keeps prospering within the law and out of trouble._

 _If you agreed to a meeting I would leave you to choose the place and time, as I am aware of how full the schedule of a head of department must be._

 _Regards,  
Draco Lucius Malfoy, _

_Head-management, Malfoy inc._

Satisfied, he sent it right away and settled to work on something else.

* * *

Judith finally made an appearance in Hermione's office around four in the afternoon, with her next appointment. She introduced the wizard and left right away.

After her appointment, Hermione had expected the brown-haired witch to stay at her desk until her day was over, but was hugely disappointed as she loudly and irritably cleared her throat at her door when Hermione was in a middle of her research.

"Yes?"

"You have a letter. It says it's urgent." Judith practically threw said letter on her desk and strode away, leaving the door wide open to Hermione's utter irritation.

Sitting back down, she noticed the oddly familiar stamp on the parchment envelope. Frowning further, Hermione examined it and asked herself why in hell would Draco Malfoy write to her personally.

She read the letter attentively and scoffed. He was presumptuously asking for her to do his job. Like she didn't have enough on her plate already. She wrote an answer right away.

 _Mr Malfoy,_

 _I am sorry to confirm your doubts on my busy schedule, and therefore to inform you that I won't be able to meet you personally. However, you are welcome to visit the Ministry and consult the documents for yourself, I will make sure they are at your disposition at the reception of the department._

 _Regards,_

 _Hermione Granger,_

 _Head-management, Law enforcement department, Ministry of Magic._

After sending a flying note to Judith, granting Malfoy access to the records, she went back to her work.

* * *

Draco opened Granger's response the instant the Ministry owl had flown away. She'd answered too quickly for it to be at his advantage though. He read the letter and scowled. Right, she was not that stupid apparently. He'd underestimated her thinking she'd agree to do his job. His letter could have fooled anyone else though. Having access to the Ministry's records would make his checking quicker anyhow, so he decided to go the next day.

Maybe he would witness another argument with her secretary. Smirking his face out, he decided on not answering her, the element of surprise, and went back to work with yet another glass of firewhiskey.

"You're a shame." Snarled a disgusted and obnoxious voice. Draco took a deep breath before lifting his face to his father's portrait. The last remained empty most of the time, his father only made appearances when his mother requested it. Upon his death, Lucius Malfoy had expressed with venom and certitude his disappointment in his son, but hadn't had the time to disinherit him. The perpetually glued portrait filled only when necessary, the sight of his offspring probably too painful for his pompous shadow of existence.

"Fuck off, you're dead." Draco spat. Lucius' death glare still sent shivers down his spine despite him only being a portrait. Draco remained stoic and waited for him to speak more.

"Your mother has a guest tonight. She wishes you to remain in your wing." And he was gone, leaving Draco to his anger.

* * *

Hermione walked down her crappy street really late that night. Astoria's documents had taken all her morning and as she'd wanted to keep on track, had worked all evening to catch up with her work. She took the stairs two by two, yawning at the effort, and relishing at the thought of soft sheets and firm pillows. She clicked the door to her muggle flat open and slipped in, kicking her shoes off and started directly to her bedroom. She had just the time to settle in bed when an irritating tapping sound resounded. Groaning in annoyance, she threw the covers at the foot of the bed and stormed out of the bedroom to check what it was. She followed the sound and landed in the kitchen where an owl was tapping its beak on the window. Who could write this late?

A tiny owl was wavering under the weight of a thick envelope. Hermione had told Ron a thousand times that Pigwidgeon was way too old to keep delivering mail. She quickly opened the window to welcome the familiar pet, which flew around her happily for a few seconds before landing on her shoulder and beaking her ear affectionately. She untied the letter from his paw and sat down to pet him. The bird was drenched, and wouldn't make the return that night. She would make sure of it.

As the bird started snoozing, perched on her shoulder, she took a look at the envelope.

She dreaded what would be inside. It couldn't be divorce papers though, she'd been the one sending those. But it had to be important if he'd quit trying to corner her to finally send whatever that was per owl. Taking a deep breath, she opened it.

 _Hermione,_

 _This is what we had to discuss, but since you won't meet me, I am obligated to do this by owl. I received an interesting offer on the cottage. If you decide to sign those papers, you will be rid of everything that still ties you to me._

 _It pains me deeply that you refuse to even speak to me Hermione. I have come to accept that what's happened has ruined our marriage, but I thought we would at least stay friends. I can see that you're not all right. Ginny told me about your argument and I'm worried. If you still don't want to talk to me or my sister, please at least contact Harry._

 _Ron._

 _P.S.: Please send Pigwidgeon back once he's rested._

Hermione crumpled the letter in her hand and almost screamed her frustration. She settled for an angry grumble full of swearing as she threw the letter on the floor angrily. Again the pity card. For five full years he hadn't been worried a second, even after what had happened, he'd kept dismissing it, stating they'd try again. And now that they were divorced he was worried?

Stupid prat. She couldn't believe she'd been married with him all those years. She couldn't believe she'd let herself fall for him. Even back at school he'd been a prat, and nothing had change ever since.

How could she remain friends with him? When his entire family clearly disapproved of the divorce? No, she stood corrected, when part of his family had already disapproved of the marriage! Ginny had been the only one to actually try to talk to her since the divorce, and when she had, she'd been dismissing what had happened between them as a _rough patch_.

It hadn't been only a rough patch! It had made her suffer more than she had during the war! It had broken her and her husband had done nothing but insisting they kept things normal as if nothing had happened!

Ronald Billius Weasley was a stupid prat. An idiot that hadn't cared about her feelings, and only thought of his own desires. She was better off without him and if his family thought of her as a coward then so be it. She knew she wasn't. She was a bloody Gryffindor and she'd fought in a war, she had nothing to prove, and certainly not to those people that had never really accepted her anyway.

She stood abruptly, making the small owl startle. She deposited it on the couch, where it perched on the armrest so it could nap, and went back to bed.

She wouldn't answer that letter. She would sign the bloody papers, and put an end to it.

And when Astoria would owl her, she'll go wherever she'd offer. It was time she moved on, and went back to being herself.


	7. Chapter 7

Tuesday, May 6th, 2003.

Hermione _Granger_ woke up feeling determined. She'd move her arse and get back together that very day. She apparated to work, right on time – meaning not at least an hour early - only to find the apparition point crowded to the point where no one could move without walking on someone's feet, and the atrium thick with the loud hubbub she was so familiar with. She had to refrain herself from scowling and she hadn't even taken two steps in. It would be easier said than done.

She elbowed her way to the lift, and was greeted with the startled face of Martin. Obviously he hadn't expected his boss to find him chatting in front of the lifts doors with another official, instead of in his office as he'd been on call for an hour already. She passed him without a word but didn't miss the widening of his eyes as he must certainly expected to be warned later.

She found herself scowling in the lift. She'd given up on watching the people that worked for her for too long apparently. She'd have to correct that. Entering her department floor she was also quite surprised to find Judith carelessly rocking back and forth on her chair, her nose buried in what looked like some sort of mushy romance novel.

Hermione cleared her throat loudly, making the brown-haired witch jump as her chair landed back on the ground with a large thud.

"Hello Judith. Do I have any appointments this morning?" She asked, as if she hadn't seen a thing. The witch started fidgeting as a dark pink patch spread on her entire face. Obviously she'd thought Hermione was already in her office.

"Err … Yes miss Granger … Here …" She started through her desk with trembling hands and finally found her book where she read the two appointments she had that morning.

Hermione strode off without another word and to her own bewilderment, found herself smirking her face off until she reached her desk. She wiped that wicked thing off her mouth as soon as she realised though. It wasn't like her to relish in catching employees missing at their work. Though she had to admit that Judith had deserved the predicament.

She realised after a few thoughts that she'd been secluded in her office for months, and that even if some people had claimed being worried, they'd mostly enjoyed the lack of pressure from the boss. They'd even taken advantage of it and there was no way in hell Hermione was going to let that go.

* * *

Draco had planned on going to the Ministry on his way to work, first thing. His plans got delayed as his receptionist floo-called, pretexting an emergency. He'd had to explain to her three times that when clients called and that he wasn't at the offices, all she had to do was to book them an appointment. That morning's client had been a bit to insistent and the stupid blond bint had felt threatened. Apparently requesting an appointment multiple times was frightening.

When she'd finally poked her head out of his home office he was so edgy that he prepared the paperwork to fire her once he'd be there. He could only blame himself though, hiring assistants on their looks was the only thing he'd always done that could have come bite him right the arse afterwards. All they had to do was to answer visitors and put names on a very simple schedule. They could be pretty! He'd obviously been wrong and would have to remedy that.

It was ten thirty when he arrived at the Ministry and, of course, Granger's receptionist's desk was empty. It was definitely not his day. This time he didn't bother sitting down, and took a look at the corridor. By chance, the brown-haired witch in crisp tailor was going out of Granger's office at that very moment.

She strode angrily to her desk, mumbling, or more growling under her breath.

"What is it?" She snapped at him, letting herself fall on her chair. Very rude little thing. He'd put her at her place.

"Good morning." He hissed. "I believe greeting visitors is in order." She only cocked an eyebrow, making him fume a bit, so he added: "Mr Malfoy. I have been granted access to your department's records by Ms Granger." She remained unimpressed and droned:

"Over here." She stood and led him to the first room to the right in the corridor. She opened the door to what obviously was the archives room, retrieved her wand and waved it at one of the multiple drawers that covered the walls. About a dozen files flew from it and landed on a table that sat at the centre of the room. What came grumbled out of her mouth as she went away would have made him laugh if only he'd expected it:

"Bitch gave me a warning. Can't believe that tight arse's got the nerves … "

Damn. He'd missed the argument and yelling. All that because of his own stupid receptionist! Draco could agree with her on the tight arse calling all he wanted, he didn't believe the bint had gotten herself a warning without earning it though. Granger was all but unfair. Another receptionist that deserved to take the door. Especially seeing the way she was talking about her boss with someone to hear. If his receptionist dared speak of him like that she'd be shown to the door crying and with his foot kicking her pretentious arse.

He'd just settled at the table, after leaving the door wide open not to miss another potential fun argument, when Granger's voice resounded:

"Martin, right on time. Come in please." Oh that tone didn't sound good for Martin. Whoever that was. It was a warning tone Draco had used himself a fair amount of times over the years. Martin was about to get his arse kicked too. Smirking his face off, Draco congratulated himself for choosing that day to come. He stood and went at the door to try and pry.

He didn't hear anything though, but it didn't mean that things were going well. Quite the opposite actually, if Granger was anything like him, the more calm the tone of voice, the most threat was under it.

* * *

Hermione sent a trembling Martin away. She had made herself clear for sure. There would be no second warning for these two lazy carpetbaggers. When she'd started running the department, Kingsley had always told Hermione to _cut'em some slack._ She'd never listened and she'd been right. Few months without close attention and they just started relaxing at work. What was work for? Reading mushy crap with ice cream or to actually do some bloody work?

A flying note came distracting her from her half-berating of herself, half-wanting to slap her staff.

 _Hermione,_

 _I've received the last report on the potion testing case from the auror's department just the instant. What do you say we review it together at an early lunch? 11:30? I have to work on it this afternoon and can't afford lending it to you._

 _Astoria._

The note oddly gave her a smile. She answered right away with a single word: _agreed_. Then she realised it was already 11:15. She had papers to send to regulation and control anyway, she could just stop there on her way down the cafeteria.

What she found after taking three steps out of her office completely startled her. The door to the archives room was wide open and a tall ashen blond ferret was pricking his ears from the door frame. His was frowning and scowling at the same time, his arms crossed above his tie, his expression one of strong disapproval. She heard voices too but her surprise made her take a moment to recognise who was talking at the receptionist's desk. Judith, Martin and probably Caroline. She couldn't see them though. She took another step to go see what was going on but stopped in her tracks as when Malfoy spotted her, his scowling became a gigantic smirk and he signed her with a finger over it not to say a thing. She frowned. What was there to listen?

When she didn't react he rolled his eyes and waved a hand for her to join him at the door and stay hidden.

* * *

Draco couldn't believe the lack of luck of the sombre idiots. Caroline, from what he'd heard, had come to deposit some papers and asked how things were going with the, and he quoted: "uptight gloomy bitch."

The misplaced pity Granger had yelled about days prior had been the century's understatement. It went far beyond that. Judith, who had been joined in her whining and complaining about their boss, by Martin, had taken to herself to explain to Caroline how Granger had obviously lost it for good.

Draco had been listening, and instantly siding with Granger, as odd as it was. The bint was so petty it reminded him of Pansy. She'd been creatively insulting for the sole purpose of it. She had also proved being the most stupid girl he'd ever encountered when she'd explained having received a warning because she'd _only_ been reading instead of doing her bloody job.

She was actually lucky that Granger was fair and had _only_ given her a warning. It would have been different if it'd been him for sure. Martin had agreed vividly and even added his own bout of insulting babble and the conversation had started running in circles.

Draco had been about to go back to his work, promising himself to tell Granger what he thought of her staff by letter, when she came out of her office.

He had to push for her to, but she finally joined him at the door and started pricking her ears as well to listen to the conversation. Incredulity first took her face but only to morph into fury. Granger was the epitome of boiling anger.

Seeing her face discompose, then turn red with rage, was the most pleasant thing he'd seen in years. She was probably seeing red too. Smoke could have fumed out of her nostrils. It was so reminiscent of their school years that Draco wasn't even smirking any more but more refraining a childish anticipatory giggle. He was beyond pleased. First because the book-worm was so angry that she'd probably yell her face off, and second, because she'd yell at those infuriating little pieces of scum that thought themselves so smart.

What she did though, was even worse. Well, for them, for Draco it was so much better to watch. First, she waited patiently for the conversation to end. Patiently wasn't the right word though, fuming was more appropriate. Then, she went to the desk and called:

"Oh Caroline wait!" Her tone was almost sweet, it was frightening. Draco followed without even thinking.

"Oh, Miss Granger, what …"

"I just wanted to warn you that your head of department will be receiving a report on your last conversation. Judith, Martin, you'll receive your lay-off notices this afternoon." Draco couldn't repress an impressed chuckle but then she smiled. No, she smirked. It was so alien that he had to blink a few times. He surely looked stupid as hell.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I actually have a business lunch to attend to. Mr Malfoy you can come back later. I'm sorry your work has been perturbed." The last bit could have been said with a wink. Draco was sure she was somehow thanking him. Which didn't help with his fly catching. Once he realised his mouth was wide open though, she'd taken the lift already, leaving three stunned idiots standing there, well, four.

He decided that he'd seen enough for the day. It was only fortunate that he'd planned a lunch with Blaise the next day, he'd have a lot to tell him.

* * *

Maybe, just maybe, Hermione had been a bit harsh and reckless with those decisions. But hearing herself being called a tight arse, a depressed and probably suicidal ball of nerves, a pretentious and bossy woman that played with her fame, among other monstrous things, had woke something within her she had never suspected she'd possessed. How she'd managed to remain calm and falsely friendly she had no idea. What she knew for sure was that it had felt good as hell to get back at them this way. No matter how wrong it'd been.

When she entered the cafeteria she caught sight of Astoria's raven hair right away and wasn't surprised to see her look at her watch with a frown. The witch's head snapped up when she finally sat at her table with a poor sandwich grabbed quickly.

"Extended meeting?" She asked as a greeting.

"Err … not really, I'm sorry you had to wait." Hermione apologised.

"No trouble." Astoria was giving her a puzzled look. She didn't ask though, she probably thought it had nothing to do with work. Against all odds, and since the news would spread quickly anyway, Hermione decided to explain herself:

"I just fired my receptionist and one of my assistants."

"Judith?"

"Yes, and Martin." Astoria only lowered her face to her plate, chuckling. Hermione frowned: "What?"

"Well it was beyond time you did in my opinion."

"Oh, what do you mean?"

"Well, I always figured you dealt with them your own way but have you ever noticed how I send my notes personally to you?"

Now that she thought of it, all notes Hermione received always arrived in the afternoon, and always sent by Judith. Astoria's had always been the exception.

"Now I do." She answered. "Why do you?"

"Because your receptionist always delivers them too late."

"Oh. Well, she won't any longer. Do you happen to know an unemployed receptionist?"

Astoria seemed to think about it a moment.

"I know a secretary who hates her job." She then shrugged.

"Might do. Who is it?"

"Tracey Davis. She was in your year."

"Oh, right, Slytherin I remember."

"She's nice and hard working. Do you want me to call her for you?"

"Yes, I could set up an interview."

"Good. Now, let's start on those or I'll be late." Astoria said, opening one of the files sitting next to her own poor lunch. Thing they did without further ado.

The rest of the day passed on quickly, as Hermione had double the amount of work, thanks to lay-off notices she had to justify for and the lack of two employees. But at the end of the day she felt the best she had in months.

She felt strangely relived as she apparated in a corner of her crappy street. She'd never imagined that being sneering could actually help with intentionally well-buried anger issues. This evening she wouldn't need a drink.


	8. Chapter 8

Wednesday, May, 7th, 2003.

Blaise was in a furry. And late! He'd been at his company offices that morning, when one of his secretaries, Davis, had explained having an important appointment she couldn't reschedule at ten o'clock. Always the compassionate boss, he'd been agreeable and had exceptionally granted her an hour off work. A _paid_ hour.

Now it was eleven forty five, and what had come back instead of her at eleven thirty, just when he'd been about to go, had been an owl.

The bitch quit her job, the appointment had been an interview. He couldn't believe it, he'd been tricked, again. His grand-mother's lectures came back to mind, as he finally went out his office at noon. _Do never be nice. It's not your job to be nice, you are their boss. They need to know that. You can be compassionate, but you shall never do favours._ Even in death she was right and he was wrong. Thank Salazar he was meeting Draco, and would be able to whine and complain freely for a moment. The lad had rarely anything to tell, he usually just drank and listened.

* * *

Hermione was sceptical. Even if apparently her previous receptionist had been a lazy bint, the one she'd just hired for a month trial, seemed to believe she had skills that were left to be shown. Hermione had received Tracey Davis and, trusting Astoria, she had decided to offer her to choose whether she preferred the assistant position, or the receptionist's.

The petite blond witch with severe eyes under rectangular glasses, and a constant frown, had seemed surprised. She'd then explained that she would be willing to do both. Hermione had insisted that the assistant position was demanding, and therefore couldn't be paired with the reception of the department, but Davis had insisted that she could very well charm notes to land in her office right away, and that it wouldn't be a burden to book appointments or sort the mail as well as it only took a minute. Hermione had been about to argue, but the determined look on her face had intrigued her, and she'd offered a trial instead.

If she proved able to do both, then she'd get both. If not, she could see the door. The witch had only answered:

"Fair enough. When do I start? If you allow me to send an owl I can start this afternoon."

Hermione had had to control her facial expression. Tracey Davis was definitely tired of her job. She'd accepted, and sent a note to Astoria:

 _That Tracey Davis is surprising. She's insisted on taking both vacant positions. Are you sure she's reliable?_

The answer only took about two minutes.

 _I'm going down for lunch, join me to discuss it._

It was becoming a habit. One that Hermione started to appreciate.

* * *

Draco really needed his break. He'd ended up keeping his receptionist the previous day, figuring that two people fired under his nose had been enough for one day. But he'd started regretting it first thing in the morning. The stupid girl had mistaken appointments and he'd ended up getting ready to meet a potion shop owner when a herbologist had come.

When eleven thirty arrived he decided to go to the three broomsticks the muggle way. He needed the air. Blaise would be late anyway so he could take his time, and empty his head a bit.

Walking down muggle London wasn't his favourite thing, muggles were always in a hurry and bumped into each other all the time, but at least no one knew him there. He wasn't taking a big risk anyway, the Leaky Cauldron wasn't that far from his offices.

He reached the door fifteen minutes before Blaise and didn't order, even though the day's glasses looked a bit less blurry than the last time. When Blaise finally slumped down the stool next to him, Draco was ready to hang himself as always, but his impatience was forgotten instantly at the man's face. He was fuming.

"What's going on?" Draco asked.

"That bint Davis quit." Blaise scowled angrily.

"That's what you get when you bang everything that moves, I told you not to mix work and …"

"I didn't bang her! She tricked me! She said she had an important appointment and it was a bloody interview!"

"You let her go?" Draco startled.

"I didn't know and I was being …"

"Too bloody nice … What did you grand-mother always said?"

"Oh shut it. I know." He signed for Tom to pour them a drink, and mumbled, more for himself: "Should have fired that bitch a long time ago anyway, too ugly …"

"Oh! Speaking of that! I went to the ministry yesterday."

* * *

"So you trust her?" Hermione asked.

"To do her job yes. On a personal level not so much. She's a loner, she always goes for her interest. But if she's well paid and likes the job …"

"Right. I suppose we'll see how it goes. Thanks anyway."

"You're welcome. It's a win-win." Astoria added the last bit, her mouth stretching into a smirk. Hermione's curiosity couldn't be hold.

"How?"

"She hates her old boss and I am a bit mad at him myself." She said lowering her gaze to her watch.

"Oh, who is it?" Astoria grimaced:

"I'm late. Look, what do you say we grab a drink Friday night? I'll tell you all about it then. See you!"

Hermione was left behind completely taken aback. She received a note about five minutes after sitting back at her desk. Said note hadn't been sent personally this time, but with others Tracey had thought a priority. She'd labelled it "personal" though.

Hermione had sent her a report to copy and send to the department of mysteries, and also two letters to answer to. How the girl had managed to find the time to colour code her messages went beyond Hermione's imagination. She shook her head before reading:

 _\- Let's meet Friday night at the Three broomsticks around 9 o'clock. I'd have planned something more fun but I'm in over my head with this new case and I always work late on Fridays. What do you say?_

 _\- 9 o'clock is perfect, I work late too._

That was settled. Hermione would go out on Friday night. All right the three broomsticks wasn't the trip of the year but very much like Astoria, Hermione didn't have time to plan something else. She had work to get back to.

* * *

"So what? Even then she didn't yell?"

"Nope. I told you she just fired them." Repeated Draco.

"Well they deserved it."

"Yes, and I would have kicked their arses too." Draco pushed. Blaise nodded approvingly, making his firewhiskey swirl in his hands. Then, he smirked:

"Must have been fun to watch."

"I was so surprised I didn't even laugh."

Blaise seemed to contemplate that and then said, his eyes staring blankly at his drink:

"Yeah, fierce little thing."

"I'd say sneaky. It was so out of character …" Draco still had trouble believing he'd heard such a tone from Granger.

"Yes, I would have pictured her yelling."

"Me too."

"But then I also thought she'd snap at the weasel for commemoration …"

"Yes that was disappointing." Draco approved. "Though she practically hid under her stool when he got on stage."

"Oh really? I didn't notice."

"You were _busy_. She even turned her back on Potter."

"Yes, that I saw." Blaise nodded. "I'd never thought it could happen though."

"Well if there's one thing where I'd side with her it's against those two idiots."

Blaise's smirk only grew.

"See yourself?" He mocked. "Siding with Granger. _Twice_. What's happened to you Malfoy?"

Draco rolled his eyes: "Shut up. She's annoying but it was too much then."

"You going soft." Blaise's smirk would vanish for sure. Draco was not going soft.

"Seriously? You were the one all worried because something's supposedly happened to her." He reminded Blaise.

"It has. Even Greengrass implied it." The lad answered, his face all serious.

"What does she know?"

"I don't think she knows anything but when she was drunk enough she said that it's not the first time Granger locks herself out of the world." Draco would berate himself later for his sudden interest.

"Meaning?" He asked.

"Meaning that she stays in her office and speaks to no one. Apparently it's happened twice before the divorce."

"So you think it had nothing to do with the weasel?"

"I'm sure of it. Plus, it's him, I mean, she has to be relieved." That he agreed to.

"Right, how she's gone through years with him is beyond me. I would have killed him the first day."

"The first hour. After making him all red and stuttering." Smirked Blaise.

"Yeah, shame she didn't do it for us."

"Well she might. He's got an interview planned for the daily prophet soon."

"No way. How do you know?"

"Rita."

"Oh the old bat. When did you see her?"

"Yesterday, but I need to go." He said, quickly glancing at his watch. "We'll talk about it … Say Friday night? Here?" He offered, standing from his stool.

"Nine?"

"Good."

And he was gone, leaving his almost empty drink on the bar. Draco couldn't believe they'd spent an hour talking about Granger. What was wrong with them?

Scowling, he started off to go back to work. Thinking of his receptionist made him want to hang himself. He'd wished for it twice that day. It couldn't be a good sign. Shrugging his next decision away, he turned left instead of right, and headed to the Ministry instead.

After all, he didn't have any appointments that afternoon, he'd checked for himself, and he still had to review the records. Plus, and he smirked for himself at the thought, he might have fun there.

* * *

Hermione had gotten back to work quickly and had found herself being interrupted only once by Davis.

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes?"

"I just received a complaint letter. Do I answer these too? Or do you want to review them first?"

"Complaint? About what?"

"About your lack of answer to complaint letters. Actually I found several of these in a drawer. All from the same man, Beetlebee."

"Beetlebee?" Hermione startled. "But it's a case I worked on two years ago! I never received any letters." Davis winced. "Oh my god. Tell me it's a joke." Hermione continued.

"I'm afraid it's not. It's nothing to worry about though, the initial complaint was about a letter received by mistake. I think the man is a bit … crazy."

"He is. He was in trial for blowing up a tea cup in a muggle street. He stated it had tried to kill muggles on Voldemort's behalf." Davis visibly shivered at the name but didn't say anything, so Hermione added: "I'm sorry, I forget sometimes."

"No trouble. Shall I answer him? Or would you like to do it yourself?"

"I guess it's better it if apologise myself. Would you bring them all to me?"

"Here." Davis accioed about twenty scrolls. Hermione couldn't believe Judith. That bitch. She should have kicked her arse before firing her.

"Tracey? Would you mind putting aside anything I asked you to do to check those drawers? I don't want another surprise like this."

"I'm half through it already." The witch smiled.

"Oh."

"Yes. I'll update if anything."

"Great, thank you." Hermione remained agape for a minute after she'd gone away. Tracey Davis was definitely something.

The letters were all the same, so she started her answer right away. When she was done, she went to the reception for Tracey to send it, and put the letters in the archives room.

"Any other surprises?" She asked. Tracey was at the last slack of drawers behind the desk.

"Just a very disorganised mess. I assume it's not your sorting system?"

"Nope. It's that messy?"

"It's … well I see no logical order to these papers. Most of them should be archived. The rest has just been thrown in there I think." Her constant frown was so deep Hermione wondered if her face could smooth again.

"Err … I'll help. Let's take a moment for that. You'll need me anyway."

"Yes, I'm sorry but I don't know half of these files …" Hermione shrugged:

"Well it's not your job to fix the mess. And your work will be much easier after. Let's start there, shall we?"

* * *

Draco stopped at the first pillar in the atrium. Scarhead and the weasel were waiting for the lift. There was no way in hell he was going to share with them. Unfortunately for him Potter spotted him and he had no choice but to walk forward. He'd look nuts if he stayed there.

"Malfoy."

"Potter. Ginger." He sneered. He didn't know why exactly he was starting but maybe Blaise's words of earlier had something to do with it.

"Ferret." The red git spat. He was already angry and it had only taken a word. Draco smirked his face out openly and from the corner of his eye, noticed Potter give a warning look to the purplish wanker.

"Where are you going anyway?" He still asked angrily. Draco couldn't resist. He waited until the lift stopped at Law Enforcement, opened the door and said:

"Visiting that dear Granger." He mirthfully articulated. He had time to catch both wanker's startled faces and widening eyes as the doors closed after him.

Satisfied, he turned around. Granger and her new receptionist had their back to him, and were surrounded by a gigantic mess of papers. Some were levitating above their heads, others were piling themselves on the desk, some others landing next to a very full rubbish bin. They didn't speak, the just perused papers from the drawers at the back of the desk, and waved their wands in unison. It was strangely mesmerising. Up until he recognised the new receptionist.

"Oh fuck it was you?" He snapped. Granger jumped so hard his surprise was crushed under a snigger.

"Malfoy?"

"You hired Davis?" Draco would have a lot to tell Blaise on Friday night for sure.

"Err … Malfoy. Great." Davis muttered.

* * *

"Why?" Hermione asked suspiciously. Tracey's reaction was odd anyway.

"She worked for Blaise until this morning." Explained Malfoy.

"Oh that's who Astoria …" Hermione shut her mouth the instant. She'd spoken too much. Malfoy's eyes widened in understanding.

"Greengrass. I should have guessed. He's not going to be pleased." Hermione didn't understand why _he_ looked pleased then.

"Why the smile then?" She asked.

"Because it's going to be fun to tell him." A surprised chuckle left Hermione's mouth on its own volition. She couldn't believe Malfoy was responsible for that. Obviously he was as surprised as she. She spoke just when he opened his mouth to comment:

"Have fun then. I'm sorry but the archives will be inaccessible for a few days. You'll have to come back."

"Ah." Now he looked displeased. Though it didn't seem directed at her when he answered.

"I need to review these before next Wednesday." He seemed really bothered.

"You can come Monday. We should be done by then."

"All right." He was gone right after, his expensive cloak wavering behind him. Hermione turned to Tracey then:

"Blaise Zabini?" She asked, her disapproving frown only half sincere. The blond sighed:

"Well, being his secretary consists in reading his mail. That's it. Oh, and being pretty."

Hermione chuckled: "It's no surprise."

"Right. I was about to quit anyway but working for you is not an offer I could decline."

"Thank you. Let's stop for the day. Say we take two hours after lunch tomorrow and Friday to finish?"

"Should be good. I can keep going without you I'll just add a pile with things for you to look through."

"All right. I'll be with the Prime Minister until seven. Just seal the desk when you go."

"Okay."

On her way to Kingsley's office, Hermione thought that Friday night might be interesting. She'd seen Astoria with Zabini and Malfoy at commemoration, and there was no doubt as to why Astoria had sought revenge on him. His reputation preceded him. And Astoria was so sneaky it went beyond Hermione's imagination. Something was off though. She found it funny.

Oh and the hell to it she had the right to. She'd smiled more in the last few days that she had in months. The fact that former Slytherins kept being responsible for that was the oddest thing in the entire world, but it worked nonetheless. Why fight it?


	9. Chapter 9

Friday, May 9th, 2003.

Part one: Before the encounter.

After a second attempt on Thursday morning, Hermione had decided that whether she was going to get back together or not, there was no way in hell she was going to force herself to go through the crowded atrium ever again. Meeting a very angry Caroline and ending up yelling at her in the middle of the crowd had been enough for a lifetime.

She'd been hugely mistaken if she'd thought she could pull the Slytherin sneering game more than once in a couple of days.

So, on Friday morning she'd come walking the muggle way, and an hour early. She'd encountered strictly no one as she'd lost herself in thoughts, and it'd been perfect.

The day passed at the speed of light though. Between dreadful meetings, a very delicate trial to prepare, sorting through the archives with Tracey, and receiving more papers to sign about the cottage, Hermione had been in over her head and a tiny bit on the nerves. Especially since Ronald sodding Weasley had decided to debate the price of their cottage with the future buyer and that she had to pretty much sign every little word they exchanged.

At eight forty five, Tracey had been gone for a long time and she was still reviewing a file from what Judith had piled up for years, when she received a flying note:

 _I bet you're still there, meet at apparition point in five minutes?_

She let her files behind to meet Astoria right away. With all the mess, she'd forgotten.

* * *

Blaise was in dire need of a drink. The last couple of days had been horrific. Having heard that Davis had quit, some of his staff had decided to start complaining. As he had decided not to give way to their sudden bout of idiocy, they'd become lazy in return. He'd had double the amount of work when he had a manager to take care of everything but signing papers. Well, it wasn't like he'd been overwhelmed or anything but he'd had to come to the office everyday instead of every other day. So, at the end of the week, and thanks to Draco's "Just fire those lazy bastards." he was free of three more employees, and had a headache that for once wasn't due to alcohol consumption.

When came nine he was of course still walking to the Leaky Cauldron. His need to empty his head with firewhiskey was tickling him, plus, Draco had said he had some great news, and he couldn't wait. He arrived only five minutes late, to the lad's apparent surprise.

"So, the great news?" He asked as a greeting. Draco's smirk then was the worst sign ever. Of course, great news coming from him could only mean bad news for someone else. Blaise had a strong gut feeling that he was that someone else this evening. Like he needed that atop everything else.

"Guess who hired Davis?"

* * *

Hermione prepared herself to be surrounded with people. She hadn't really given it some thought but surely the three broomsticks would be crowded on a Friday night. She caught a quick glance at the windows as Astoria was opening the door. Hagrid, Minerva and Neville. Great. The whole Hogwarts tribe. She practically bumped into Astoria as the witch froze on the threshold, cutting short Hermione's scowling.

"Err … Hermione? Do you mind if we go somewhere else?" She grimaced.

"Actually no." If she could avoid her former professors and schoolmates there was no doubt she would.

"Good." Hermione only cocked an eyebrow in question, after all Astoria had said she wouldn't ask, so she had no idea if she could ask herself. Astoria didn't elaborate and just offered:

"Hog's Head?"

Hermione shrugged: "It's either that or Madam Puddifoot's."

"I'm not setting foot there." Astoria grimaced.

"Hog's Head then." She nodded and both women started to the far end of the village. Aberforth greeted them with a flash of surprise that vanished instantly to be replaced with a knowing half-smile as he served them both a drink without asking what they wanted. What he thought he knew Hermione had no idea but she was sure he knew more than her anyway. Those piercing blue eyes were wise beyond their name.

Astoria walked to a corner of the almost deserted room and Hermione followed, quite pleased with the lack of patrons.

"Marcus Flint was there." She said, sitting down. Hermione gave her another questioning look and the pretty witch smiled before continuing: "He's an ex."

"Oh. I see." Astoria winked and sipped at her drink. Hermione had already taken a large gulp at her own firewhiskey and suddenly felt a bit less heavy as the burning sensation descended to her stomach. She'd thought she hadn't needed a drink this week but apparently she'd been very wrong.

"You're not going to ask?" Astoria settled her glass back down after asking, cocking her head to a side to inspect Hermione with a foreign piercing stare.

"About Zabini?"

"Yes. You're not interested?"

"I don't need to ask. I guessed." She shrugged making Astoria chuckle:

"Do tell."

"All right. You spent Friday night in bed with him and he went away either right after or in the middle of the night." Astoria actually laughed at that.

"Salazar Hermione! There's a bit more to it actually but he did go away in the middle of the night." Hermione smiled, her deduction sense was still good apparently.

"What's the bit more?" She dared ask. After all Astoria had branched the subject.

"He said and I quote: "I'm not the kind to run off in the middle of the night you know, I'm more of a breakfast and more kind of guy."" Hermione found herself unexpectedly chuckling:

"And you fell for that?"

"We were both pretty drunk." Pouted Astoria. They both had a little laugh at the childish face the pretty witch pulled. After a moment of silent smiling and drinking, Hermione wondered if Astoria wasn't waiting for her to confess something too. After all, Hermione had no idea how this worked. She'd only ever had one girlfriend and it'd been Ginny. Whenever the last had shared something, she'd always asked Hermione something personal too. As if sensing her thoughts, though, Astoria gave her a warm smile:

"I said I wouldn't ask Hermione. We're just here to enjoy each other's company right? I say whatever I want to say, and you say whatever you want to say. No obligations." Hermione smiled, she was starting to really like the younger witch. She decided to just forget everything else, and keep the conversation in that unexpected funny streak.

"Good. Then I have to say that what you did with Davis was devious."

"I know." Astoria answered with a lift of her eyebrows before chuckling. Hermione joined her right away.

* * *

After a good ten minutes of mirthfully watching Blaise grumble and insult everyone and everything, Draco was at his third drink and was starting to blissfully feel tipsy. Good.

"You know that Greengrass girl has nothing to do with her sister." Blaise continued babbling. "She's snide! Daphne's just stupid and petty. A prettier version of Pansy. You know what? Makes me want to try again. She was a good shag. And I could get back at her. Way worse. Right I'll just get back at her."

Draco watched the flow of patrons while Blaise was deciding on his mischievous plan to get revenge on Astoria Greengrass. Most people were coming from Diagon Alley at this hour, and a large portion of patrons was paying their check and going out of the pub, probably to go finish the evening somewhere less crappy or to simply go home after a week of work. He watched the door close after two old witches with high hats, when it reopened to let two infuriating wankers come in. Said wankers were followed by a third piece of their team, Wood. Draco growled, pulling Blaise out of his self-discussion.

"What?"

"Look who just came in." He chinned the door. Potter, Weasley and Wood started right to the bar and greeted Tom as if they were old friends, cheering loudly, and of course, attracting attention. Draco shook his head:

"That's all we needed tonight. Wankers." Blaise, who had followed them with his eyes, turned back to Draco smirking:

"Let's play." Oh that was not good. "Tom!" He practically yelled. "Two more!" The bartender turned a startled face to them, and the wankers followed. Obviously he was quite surprised to be addressed this loudly by what surely was his usually most discreet patrons.

"Right away." He answered, frowning suspiciously.

"Potty, weasel, _tree_." Blaise greeted the others. Draco had to turn away from him and practically choked on his drink. _Tree._ What the hell? He had to bite the inside of his cheeks not to laugh out loud. Whatever Blaise had stupidly planned for a game, Draco didn't want in, but he sure as hell was going to watch.

"Fuck off Zabini." Was the weasel's answer. He was already red. This game sounded fun.

"Smart comeback redface." He sneered. Potter had to put his arm in front of the red idiot. Apparently being an auror hadn't given him a brain.

"What're you playing at Zabini?" Potter asked between clenched teeth.

"Having fun." Blaise shrugged.

"Well stop it." Potter looked deadly serious. Draco almost winced, if the head auror really decided to be nasty, all he had to do was to snap his fingers and Blaise would be in trouble.

"Why? I'm just starting."

"Stop it Blaise." Draco warned quietly.

"Listen to Malfoy, Zabini." Warned the weasel behind his goggled shield. Blaise was about to retaliate challengingly, when Potter exhaled in starting anger and took a few steps to them. Then he hissed quietly:

"Stop that. Whatever you're trying to do, stop it."

"I do as I please Scarhead." Blaise hissed. Draco stood behind him at that, this was getting far more serious than intended for sure.

Potter looked outraged. After a few seconds he got closer to Blaise and murmured: "Don't forget that all I have to do is call law enforcement and that little business of yours closes."

Blaise hated empty threats as much as Draco. Plus, coming from Saint Potter, that always claimed to be so right and fair, it made Blaise snap. He chuckled. A dangerous chuckle, he was not amused at all. Draco put a hand on Blaise's shoulder, and squeezed it in warning. If he acted on his anger this could end very badly. Blaise ignored it completely:

"See, I don't think so. I doubt Granger would go around the laws. Especially to please _you_ of all people." Draco stopped in his tracks, his best friend apparently had a card to play.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Potter startled. Blaise cocked his head to a side to glare at the weasel too before answering.

"I don't know. You tell me why she was drowning herself in her drink during you pathetic little speeches at commemoration." Potter blanched significantly but Blaise wasn't finished: "Oh, and I won't forget to tell her how insulting you just were."

"What the hell? I was not insulting!"

"Really? Think Potter. You too weaselbee." Blaise stood too then and nodded to the door. Draco followed, after watching intently both men's reaction. Agape. And a bit too pale, apparently thinking drained all the blood from the weasel's face. Blaise had definitely touched a nerve.

Once they were out Draco asked:

"Why did you do that?"

"Because it was fun?"

"You know what I mean, what was that about with Granger?"

Blaise sighed: "I got carried away a bit eh?"

"A tad. Nothing too serious though. You just angered the head auror and his favourite pet."

"They won't do a thing mate, they think I'll tell Granger. And obviously she's not in really good terms with them."

"Obviously. I don't understand why you insisted though …"

"Because I can't stand him."

"Me neither. But I know when to keep my mouth shut."

"And let that goggled prat insult her?" Draco frowned sceptically and Blaise continued: "Come on! He pretty much said she had no integrity and would just obey his bullshit."

"So you defended Granger's integrity." Droned Draco. Like it was perfectly normal for Blaise to do that. Yes, nothing was wrong with that.

"Err … I guess."

"You're nuts. Now with what I said the last time I saw them, they'll think we hang out with her."

"What did you say?"

"I was in the lift …"

"Wait, let's have another drink to talk about it."

"Hog's head."

* * *

"So, and then we flew up to the edge of the forbidden forest. We had a good ten minutes before he would catch up with us. Unless he thought of accioing his broom too but you know, he's a bit stupid so … Anyway we waited behind the trees and he never saw it coming! Boom! Rictusempra right in his face!"

Hermione burst out laughing another time at Astoria's story telling. She hadn't dared keep count or even think about it, she only knew that she was a little drunk and didn't care about anything else but enjoying her evening. Well, it had only lasted about an hour when someone slumped in the chair between the both of them at their little square table. A full glass clacked on the wooden surface and firewhiskey spread a bit around it.

"Hello Ladies."


	10. Chapter 10

Friday, May 9th, 2003

Part two: The encounter.

"Hello ladies."

Blaise Zabini. Of course. And Malfoy, of course. The last was rolling his eyes, still standing a good few steps away from them though.

"Hello dickhead." Was Astoria smirking response.

"Good I see I you're in a good mood. Granger, happy to see you can speak now."

"Zabini, unhappy to see you can breathe." Droned Hermione. She was getting drunk and there was no way she would let him ruin the first good evening she'd had in months. Malfoy chuckled at her side. Had he just reacted to her half-joke, half-truth? She cocked an eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes again.

"Good one Granger. Congratulations. Now, on to serious matters …" Answered Zabini.

"No. We were having a good time. Please do what you're the best at and fuck off." Ordered Astoria.

"Oh so you're angry with me too? Good. Let's sort it out. Draco come here."

"Why?" The blond frowned.

"Sounds fun." Zabini shrugged.

"No it doesn't." Malfoy countered and Hermione found herself agreeing with him aloud, as odd as it was:

"Actually for the first time in my life I agree with him."

"Oh, come on Granger! You steal employees from me but won't talk to me?"

"I didn't steal anyone."

"Right and I'm ugly."

"You deserved it and Hermione had no idea Tracey worked for you." Astoria jumped in.

"Like I'll believe that." He scoffed.

"Believe what you want. Now would you go?" Hermione saw the corner of Astoria's mouth twitch in amusement.

"Nope." Zabini gave before waving a hand towards the bar. "Aberforth? Would you bring us another round?"

"Come take it yourself." The last barked.

Both women chuckled. Even Malfoy was smirking. Zabini looked like Aberforth had slapped him. After a moment he stood, and growled: "I'll be back."

Malfoy rolled his eyes again. Then, when Zabini came back levitating a platter full of glasses, he sighed tiredly, as if he were giving up, and slumped on the chair facing his friend. Next to Hermione of course, square table. She scowled, her evening was ruined. When Zabini started bickering with Astoria, she sighed. An hour of fun. She'd had a single hour of fun in months. She downed her drink quickly, preparing herself to go home, not nearly drunk enough. She put her glass down on the table when Malfoy groaned in his. She found herself chuckling mockingly. She was more drunk than she'd thought apparently.

"You're in the same boat Granger. This could last hours." He scowled. She turned her gaze to Astoria and realised that their little bickering had turned out to be more flirting than arguing. Hence why Malfoy had groaned. Going home was the best option, but Malfoy stopped her in her tracks. He pushed a full glass her way.

"Make sure this hangover is worth it." He advised before downing his own glass and grabbing a new one. Hermione took care of hers in a matter of seconds. Now she was properly drunk. Her sight was blurry. She smiled. At least her thoughts weren't coherent enough for her to feel irritated by the situation.

* * *

Granger had downed a glass of firewhiskey just like that. Again. She hadn't winced, nor grimaced. Now she was watching the exchange with a smug smile. Drunk Granger was … oddly funny. Draco started to feel more than tipsy himself, he'd downed his own drink too, competition spirit and all. Blaise was all seductive looks and praise now. Soon, he'd take a drunk Greengrass to bed, again. Granger didn't seem to care at all, she watched the two love birds blankly, her left hand toying with her empty glass. Maybe a dead drunk Granger would be more fun to watch. He pushed another drink to her, making her come back to reality:

"Trying to make me puke everywhere ferret?" She asked, or more droned.

"Would be fun to watch, book-worm." He sneered back.

She snorted: "More fun than to watch those two snog."

Draco found himself unexpectedly chuckling for the second time at what she'd said.

"They don't even hear us any more." He said bitterly.

"Is that why you pouted all evening at commemoration?" She smirked. Surprise was a feeling he experienced a bit too much when it came to her. He decided to play Blaise's game. Making her angry sounded fun.

"And why did _you_ pout at commemoration?"

"Err …" Well it hadn't worked. She watched her empty glass a second, then grabbed the full one he'd pushed her way. She took two gulps at it before putting it down and answering:

"Because my ex-husband is a stupid prat." She mumbled, frowning. That was unexpected. But what was more was that she seemed to only realise it.

"And it took you what? Only a decade to notice?" He asked.

"Twelve years to be exact." She grimaced.

"And they called you the brightest witch of our age …" He mocked half-heartedly. She looked so disappointed that he couldn't bring himself to be mean.

"I am. As much as you're just an annoying little ferret …" She sneered, turning to him fully. His answer could have been more sneering but she was still frowning and it was unsettling.

"Ferret? After all those years that's all you've got?" He tried. She blinked a few times and then shrugged:

"It works every time. Why would I try to find another nickname?" She had a point. It annoyed him. Plus, he was drunk and he didn't want to fight.

"Touché. Beaver." He still sighed. She smiled at him:

"That doesn't work since fourth year Malfoy."

"Eh? Why?" She smiled the more. What was wrong with her? She sighed then:

"Remember that hex? Densaugeo?"

"Oh. What about it?"

"Pomfrey fixed it and I let her shorten my teeth." She smiled again, she was showing her teeth, not completely nuts.

"Great. I fixed you, when I meant to hit the weasel." He grunted.

"Thanks ferret."

"Welcome miss bushy-hair." She chuckled and stood, he hadn't even noticed she'd finished her drink.

"Oh you're going Granger?" Blaise's face was slightly disappointed.

"Yes, tired of your face Zabini."

* * *

"When are you coming back?" Zabini asked, taking Astoria's interest with him.

"When you're not there." Hermione sneered.

"Easy to do Hermione, to make him disappear you only need to sleep with him." Winked Astoria.

"I could have predicted that."

"See? Even Granger is not that naive." Zabini hurried to jump in.

"I'm not naive but you lied to me. You could have just admitted it when I asked." Astoria scolded, her interest back to her bickering idiot.

"Err … right."

"I didn't hear."

"Wash your ears then."

Hermione sighed, this could last long. Plus, as they started bickering again, Malfoy turned a strangely grimacing face to her. Was his stare pleading? Apparently. He showed her the seat she'd just left and too tired to argue, and maybe too surprised to do anything else, she slumped back in her chair and cut the bickering:

"I think she's waiting for an apology Zabini."

"So smart book-worm." Was the answer she got.

"She's right you twat." Countered Astoria.

"All right, all right, I'm sorry I lied to you. Next time I'll bang you senseless and make sure you know I'll be gone in the morning." He smirked. Astoria was quick to answer:

"There won't be a next time."

"That's what you say now. Wait for me to work my charm on you." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively under Astoria's rolling eyes. Hermione intervened before they started flirting again.

"Zabini?"

"Granger?"

"You're pathetic."

"Means a lot coming from you." He snapped back. Well, she'd wished for the pity to go away. It was gone. Hermione took a deep breath, extended a hand to Malfoy, who obliged, smirking, and started drinking again. Zabini seemed pleased with himself and returned his attention to Astoria who was now lecturing him about tact.

"It's insufferable." Said Malfoy shaking his head before taking another gulp at his drink.

"What?"

"His constant flirting."

"What are you doing here then?"

"I have no idea."

"Great we're on the same page. Again."

He chuckled: "That's disturbing."

"At every level." She shook her head then, and added: "Come on I'll ask Aberforth to use his floo."

"Eh?" Apparently drunk Malfoy was a bit thick. What was floo powder for? She decided against mocking him more though, preferring to go home. She shrugged instead:

"If you want to stay and watch then help yourself. I'm going home." She then stood difficultly, apparently she was beyond drunk and the floor had decided to move under her feet. She startled as Malfoy stood too, and tried to steady her with a hand. He realised what he was doing quickly though, and let go of her grimacing.

"Thanks." She mumbled awkwardly. He frowned but didn't say a thing. As she walked unsteadily to the counter, he followed through.

"Aberforth? Would you mind us using your chimney to get back home?"

"No at all dear. Help yourself it's at the back."

* * *

Draco was really drunk. Blaise was oblivious to them, and the subject of his attention only had eyes for him as always. How he managed to get every woman under his spell with a few words Draco would probably never understand. How he had ended up following Granger in the back room of Hog's Head, he didn't know either.

She was mumbling under her breath incoherently, stumbling on her feet a bit. Draco was no better as he almost hit the door frame with his shoulder. He didn't even had any pepper up left. The next morning would be atrocious.

He steadied himself by grabbing the back of an armchair, while Granger stumbled the more to find the floo powder in the messy room. He couldn't help his drunken chuckle as she cursed upon hitting her foot against a table leg. She turned to him then, her frown irritated, and her eyes drunkenly glazed.

"Don't mock me you can't even walk." She sneered. He cocked an eyebrow at her challengingly and let go of the armchair. Then, and realising he was beyond drunk, he focused to take two steps to her. He smirked at her and having spotted the pot of floo powder behind her, grabbed it. Of course his hands were shaky and he let go of it just before he could mock her. She pinched her lips, hard. And then she burst out laughing at his face. And of course, alcohol seemed to have taken all his wit away. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms:

"You finished?"

"Not quite." She smirked. "You are very drunk."

"Because you're perfectly sober right now."

"Oh that I'm not!" She chuckled. He couldn't help but join her.

"Who would have thought, Granger beaver so drunk she can't stand properly." He mocked. She snorted:

"It's not even the worst. I can't walk and I'm spending a Friday evening with a ferret!"

"And I with a bossy know-it-all!"

"You must be desperate Malfoy, falling so low …"

"I must." She chuckled and he frowned, thinking. "I can't believe I'm spending the evening with _you_." He realised way to late the way he'd said it.

* * *

Upon her drunken state she wondered, he wasn't smiling any more, he seemed almost disgusted by the idea.

Hermione had forgotten who she was with for a moment. Reality slapped her right in the face: it was Draco Malfoy.

"I see." She spat, and crouched carefully to grab the pot on the dirty floor. She stumbled standing back up and he reached out to her.

"Don't." She barked but as she did, saw his torn face. But he didn't say anything and, too drunk to fight it, she let the hurt clench her throat. She turned her back on him hurriedly and threw a fist full of floo powder in the chimney. She climbed in with difficultly but still managed to call for her flat without looking at him.

She vaguely heard him call her name quietly before she was sucked up in the floo network.

She landed ungracefully on her side, wanting to cry.

She'd had a nice evening, even if Astoria had ended up flirting with Zabini, she had felt good. First because no one had tried to cajole her or spare her feelings, resulting in her not feeling as if the conversation was false, she'd been able to speak freely without feeling out of place. Second because she'd laughed her face out, and had been able to joke, and it had been so long.

But she'd fooled herself thinking she belonged with those people, obviously she didn't. Malfoy's disgust had only proved that they weren't joking, and that they despised her still.

And it hurt. She realised that she didn't despise Malfoy any longer, the past was the past. She'd thought, when he'd signed for her to listen to Judith, that he'd tried to help her. He hadn't been sneering or mean to her the time they'd spent drinking, he'd even agreed with her and joked playfully. Or so she'd thought. She'd stupidly thought that things were good between them somehow. She'd been wrong obviously. Alcohol had made her naive.

Now she was so drunk she couldn't walk. And she felt humiliated. And stupid. She crawled her way to the couch and started her night there.

* * *

Draco stumbled on the first step and almost hit the floor face first. How he'd managed to catch himself with both hands, he didn't remember. Growling and stumbling some more to stand back up he half-crawled his way up the flack of stairs.

Thank Salazar he only had another corridor to cross to get to his bed. He had no idea where his wand was, and to be honest, if he wasn't sick during what was left of the night he might be for the entire week-end. Why did he always have to follow Blaise? He always ended up dead drunk and lonely.

Though he'd had someone to talk to that night. Granger. Of course it had ended up badly. He had only himself to blame though, since he'd obviously hurt her feelings. Which he shouldn't care about but having spent the majority of his time with Blaise speaking about her, and also some time around her since the previous week, he realised he did. She'd been nothing but joking with him and he'd insulted her somehow. The look on her face had twisted his guts. She'd been nice offering to ask for Aberforth's floo powder. He'd been a prat.

"Pitiful." Spat a voice full of disdain.

"Shut the fuck up you're dead." Draco spat back at his father's portrait. He'd crawled his way to his office apparently. Too tired to even attempt to go anywhere else, he slumped on the armchair facing the window, and fell asleep there, feeling like an utter moron.


	11. Chapter 11

Monday, May 13th, 2003.

Hermione groaned at her alarm clock that morning. After spending her Saturday sleeping and recovering from the worst hangover of her life, she'd spent her Sunday buried in self depreciating thoughts, and loneliness. The only way she'd found to forget had been to work her mind off and it had worked to some extent. But it hadn't been enough, and she'd had to refrain herself from going back to Hog's Head to drink her sodding mind into oblivion. She'd decidedly chosen to work all night instead, so that now she had to get up quickly, after having slept only three hours, if she didn't want to face a crowded atrium.

She walked quickly down the street, the early sun hurting her eyes. The reflection on the shops windows reminded her that they were in may. She'd have to stop wearing cloaks if she didn't want to suffocate. She arrived at work a bit later than she'd wished to, but got lucky as she didn't encounter anyone willing to speak to her.

Tracey arrived just after her and seemed to see right away that Hermione wouldn't speak much. She just said good morning and went straight to work. And it was a relief.

At eleven o'clock she received a note, labelled personal. Thank Merlin for Tracey Davis.

 _Would you join me for lunch? I have a few questions about a regulation and I'd also enjoy a chat._

Err. Hermione didn't feel like having a chat, at all. She sighed, she'd spent a lonely and pathetic week-end, and she liked Astoria. Her company would be better than depressing thoughts.

 _Agreed._

* * *

Blaise was in a good mood. He'd ended up in bed with Astoria Greengrass on Friday night, and had stayed this time. Saturday morning shags were his new favourites. The only thing that had wronged the rest of his week-end had been Astoria insisting that she needed to work. On a bloody Saturday.

He'd found the address of an ex on the coffee table once he'd apparated back home, and had spent a very pleasant Saturday night and Sunday morning as well though. A tiny voice at the back of his mind, strangely resembling Draco's, had warned him that it could very well blow up in his face to stay over, but he'd ignored it.

This morning he'd found new staff members, and had received a call from his reasoning but ignored voice. So, late as always, he arrived at the Leaky Cauldron to meet Draco for lunch.

* * *

"Hermione!" At the call Hermione went to sit facing Astoria at the far end of the almost empty cafeteria. She smiled as the witch started with work right away.

"My head of department, McMillan, I believe you know him …"

"Ernie yes."

"Right, he asked me to see if it would be possible for you to review one of our new regulations. He found inconsistencies in it." Hermione opened her mouth to answer but Astoria cut her:

"I know, the Foster trial is approaching you must be in over your head. That's why he's offered that I helped. If you'd grant me access to your archives I must be able to work on it by myself. You'd only have to review any report I make."

"You'd handle it?"

"Of course. I heard you sorted through your archives with Davis it has to be accessible."

"It is. Alright then."

"Good I'll start tomorrow if that's okay. Now, onto serious matters." She smirked. Hermione frowned questioningly and she continued, smirking the more. "I've got a few gossips I'm sure you'll find interesting." Hermione's frown only deepened, doubtfully this time. Astoria grimaced and added, blushing a bit: "Blaise is really talkative when he stays over …"

"I knew you'd give up." Hermione smiled, shaking her head.

"I was really drunk."

"I sense a pattern here."

"Oh shut up. Do you want to know who they met before they decided to go to Hog's Head too?"

"I suppose I do."

* * *

"What's wrong with you?" Blaise looked smug, an expression Draco wasn't used to see on him. It was unpleasant.

"Nothing." The lad lied openly.

"Liar." Draco didn't wait to point out.

"All right, but don't lecture me."

"I can't promise that. Spit it out."

"I stayed over at Greengrass' Friday night. And then I stayed over at Sherry's Saturday …"

"You're screwed Blaise. Two women? Two breakfasts?" Draco shook his head in disapproval. This would definitely blow up in his face. Especially when they knew Greengrass.

"I knew you'd say that. But see, I made myself clear that it was nothing serious."

"Since when do women take that into account? Remember Pansy?"

"Err … right. But Greengrass is smarter. She's friends with the book-worm."

"Weasley was friends with Granger too."

"All right, invalid argument. But don't worry."

"Oh but I don't. I can't wait to see it all blow up in your face." Draco smirked, truthfully.

"Oh, shut up."

They resumed drinking for a moment and when their lunch was served, Blaise startled:

"Man you're right it's going to blow up in my face."

"Told you."

"No you don't get it. I told Greengrass we met the weasel and Potter."

"Stupid thing to do. She'll tell Granger."

"Shit."

Draco had to smirk: "She's going to think you like her now."

"Err … _great_." The face Blaise made then … Draco had to mock him:

"Oh don't pretend Blaise, you like Granger beaver."

"I don't like her. But you have to admit we had a good time." Alright now he had to grimace.

"Err …" Until he screwed it up, yes.

* * *

"Why would he defend me?" Hermione startled, disbelieving.

"Just what I asked. He said that he knew that his grandmother liked you and that it was enough for him."

"Err … "

"He said that the past was the past." Hermione snorted:

"Zabini may think like that but Malfoy sure doesn't."

"What makes you think that? You got along just fine …" Astoria started.

"He expressed his disgust at the very idea of spending an evening with me when we went to take the floo."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"That bastard! I thought … You know …"

"Me too. I was wrong apparently."

* * *

"Would you, I don't know, insult her on my behalf when you go there? So she doesn't fall in love with my pretty face."

Draco snorted. With the way he'd spoken to her there was no way he'd even see her. She'd avoid him for sure.

"No and she won't talk to me anyway." He grimaced.

"Sure she will. She joked around with you all evening."

"And I was insulting right after." Draco cringed.

"What? Why?"

"I have no idea."

"What did you say?"

"That I couldn't believe that I'd spent an evening with _her_."

"With that face?" Blaise asked, his disapproving frown as surprising as ugly.

"Pretty much."

"What's wrong with you?"

"I don't know. I was drunk and … I guess it's true, I couldn't believe we got along and it felt wrong. I mean, she _joked_ …"

"And you _laughed_ at her jokes."

"Yes."

"You're a prat. We're not in school any more."

"I know."

"Apologise." Blaise ordered.

"Why would I? Who cares?"

"Well, I care, Greengrass cares, and because it's the grown-up thing to do."

"I don't care." Draco shrugged but Blaise wasn't one to be fooled:

"You're a bad liar mate. Apologise."

"No."

"Too proud?"

"No. It's Granger. I can't apologise to her."

"Why?"

"Because I've insulted her my entire life. If I apologise for this I'll have to for all I've said or done to her over the years."

"And?"

* * *

"I still can't believe Harry would insinuate that I would go around the laws. Imagine what would happen if Zabini and Malfoy decided to call the press?"

Astoria shrugged:

"Don't worry about that, they won't. Blaise was outraged …"

"That's … hard to believe. Don't you think he was trying to have you …"

"He already had what he wanted Hermione, I don't see why he would lie. He was so drunk anyway I don't think he would have been able to."

"Right. Thanks for telling me though." Hermione couldn't believe it. After his speech at commemoration, having Harry be insulting and risk her career, made her so angry she was likely to go see him right after this lunch, and end the months of silence.

"Don't make another scene in the Ministry …" Astoria had apparently seen her anger, she was smirking amusedly though. Hermione chuckled:

"Caroline was an exception. I'll write to him though. I mean … I can't believe Zabini had to defend me to him. He's supposed to be my best friend …"

"I haven't seen you around him a lot for a best friend." Hermione lowered her face to her full plate of … salad. Even Astoria had noticed. When they'd been seeing each other for what? A week? Harry hadn't even bothered writing to her since the divorce. The only one to come around and owl had been Ginny but since their argument …

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to pry." Astoria frowned in an apologetic manner, though it looked like she didn't really care. Hermione sighed and spoke flatly, she didn't really care either anyway:

"He didn't even write. And then he gives a speech about friendship at commemoration …" Astoria seemed suddenly pensive. Then she frowned:

"Yes, I remember thinking it was directed at you."

"Everyone did apparently, since Zabini mentioned it too."

"It was not very subtle."

"I know."

* * *

Blaise had let go of the matter quickly. Thank Salazar. There was no way in hell Draco would apologise to the little know-it-all. The annoying thing was that he had to go the Ministry right now. He only had this day and the next to check her archives before his next meeting and couldn't postpone. He walked very slowly down the main street and took the visitor's entrance. The red telephone booth led him down and he walked as slowly to the lift. Hopefully the book-worm would be locked in her office.

Well, she was, but what he found was happening at law enforcement that afternoon completely bewildered him.

He heard the shouting from the lift. Davis arboured an apologetic cringing smile as she greeted him:

"Sorry Malfoy you're going to have to wait a moment before accessing the archives."

"What the hell is going on here?"

"Err … The golden trio is breaking apart." She proclaimed dramatically. "If I wanted to make money I'd call a journalist right now." She then mumbled, as if resigned.

"What?" He walked past her desk and listened. Granger's door was closed but who she was arguing with was not mistakable.

"I still can't believe you'd risk my career this way!" She was shrieking.

"I didn't mean it! Come on Mione …"

"NO! Don't Mione me!"

"Look I wasn't trying to discredit you or anything I was just trying to shut him up! He made Ron boil!"

"I don't care! You're supposed to be my best friend!"

"Oh so _now_ I'm your best friend? You didn't even answered Ginny's owls!"

"Maybe I was waiting for YOU to owl me! Not your wife!"

"You shut us out of your life! Not me! What was I supposed to do? Beg?" She had a laugh then. A short laugh that strangely resembled Blaise's when he was beyond pissed off.

"Right. I pushed you away. If that's what you think then fuck off Harry." She hissed.

"Are you serious?"

"YES! I didn't push you away all those years! You disappeared every time! I needed a friend and you just listened to Ron's bullshit and stayed away from me!"

"I tried to give you space! I didn't mean to …"

"I called you! I owled!"

"I … I didn't know what to say …"

"So you said nothing."

"I'm sorry."

"It's too late to be sorry Harry." Draco had to prick his ears to hear. Her voice was broken.

"So what? It's over now? After all we've been through?" Potter's was definitely defeated.

"Yes. I can't face you all now."

"You can't? Why?"

"Because everyone thinks I am some kind of coward for ending things with Ron. I've seen the looks Harry don't lie to me! I know that it's what the Weasleys think! Ginny said so herself!" Granger a coward? Even Draco could see the foolishness of that statement.

"Because we don't understand. You abruptly ended your marriage after five years! It looked like you were running away from the situation."

"I wasn't! And you'd known if you'd bothered speaking to me!"

"Why did you then? Why did you leave him?" Because he was a temperamental wanker? A red idiot? How was that any of Potter's business anyway? Draco should probably stop listening too, but in all honesty, his curiosity had the better of him, and the trembling in her voice froze him on the spot anyway.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. Explain yourself." Potter commanded.

"I … I couldn't …" She stuttered.

"What Hermione? You couldn't what?" He barked.

"Keep trying. I couldn't keep trying." A sob. He'd heard a sob, right? What the hell was Potter doing?

"You gave up then. And you don't understand why the Weasleys think you ran away?" His voice was venomous, as if he were disappointed, or more disgusted with the idea. Draco wondered if he'd spoken to her the same way the other night. He probably had.

"How dare you! You have no idea what it's been like!" Yes it had definitely been a sob before.

"Yes I do! You think it was easy for Ron? It broke his heart! And then you left him overnight! He came back from work and you were gone! Do you know in which state we found him?" Who cared about that? What the fuck had happened to them anyway?

"And in which state do you think _I_ was? Three Harry! Three times and he kept pushing me! I didn't want this! I was doing it only for him and he kept pressuring me everyday!" That Draco didn't understand. Three what?

"And instead of telling him you kept pretending and then you cowardly left." Heinous, he was heinous, and clearly stupid.

"Cowardly? YOU ARE CALLING ME A COWARD TOO?" Yelling, good, at least she wasn't crying any more.

"YES!"

"Fuck you!" Oh. Harsh.

"Right. I think we're done anyway."

"Oh that we are." She spat.

Potter strode out of her office then, banging the door after him. Then, he spotted Draco.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Draco had no control over his answer:

"I came to see Granger of course. But seeing the state she must be in right now I might come back later."

"You listened?!"

"Your argument could be heard from the atrium Potter." The head auror seemed so angry it wouldn't be surprising to see him explode.

"I swear to Merlin Malfoy that if you say a word about this I'll kill you." Empty threat. Draco snorted:

"Like you swore you'd call Granger and close Blaise's business?"

"Fuck you!"

"Smart comeback." Blaise's game played itself out of Draco's mouth. Now he understood how his best friend had gotten carried away.

"You shut the fuck up Malfoy! Or you'll regret it!"

"What … Malfoy?" Granger had come out of her office and her eyes were still red. It tore something apart in Draco. He'd seen her cry before.

"Well, I will certainly not. What would people think, if they were to learn that their golden hero threatens people around on a daily basis? Or if they knew that he made their most famous heroin cry?"

"THAT is none of your business!"

"Well I think it is. I was there both time you insulted her."

"This is beyond ridiculous! You spent your life insulting her!" He countered.

"And I am regretful! You're just a stupid hero complexed prat who makes women cry!"

"You made her cry too!"

"No he never did." Granger cut. Potter startled and Draco realised he'd followed.

"Are you taking his side?" The head auror asked incredulously.

"He's taking mine. You're not. You made me cry, he never did."

"What … What the hell is going on here? Are you … Are you hanging out with them?" Potter seemed under shock. Draco would have laughed the situation were different.

"What if I were? It's not like I'm hanging out with you any more." Granger was definitely not crying any longer. She used that almost friendly tone she'd used to fire the two idiots the other day. Draco stood rooted to the spot, his mouth slightly open.

"Right. I see. Wait until I tell Ron …"

"I don't care what Ron thinks. He never cared about my feelings." Draco closed his mouth. He remembered something then. Potter was not the only to have made her cry.

"That's a lie!" Potter barked.

"No it's not!" She pushed. And she was right.

"The weasel is a stupid prat Potter. He already made her cry at school." Damn. Why would he say that?

"He …"

"Go away Harry."

Potter gave up and walked away then.

* * *

The silence that followed was awkward. Hermione felt like she should say something but couldn't bring herself to. She didn't understand why Malfoy had taken her defence. Especially after the way they'd left things on Friday night. He wore a tight mask of indifference and Hermione couldn't figure out what he was thinking. So she spoke the truth:

"I don't know what to say."

"Me neither." He shrugged. She chuckled.

"I'm sorry you had to listen to that."

"I'm sorry I was insulting Friday." Had he just apologised?

"Wh … Really?" She startled.

"Err …" He grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck a second before explaining: "Well, it was the truth. I can't believe we got along. But I didn't mean to say it like that. It was ... uncalled-for."

"It was. You're forgiven." He lifted an eyebrow suspiciously:

"That easily?" He asked and Hermione shrugged:

"You made the effort to apologise. And you defended me. Though I don't understand why."

"I'm not a monster Granger." He said. "He made you cry." She nodded, not knowing what to say.

"Can I go to the archives room now?" He asked after a moment.

"You can." He nodded and turned around but Hermione had just gathered the courage to say something:

"Malfoy?" She called. He turned around slowly:

"Yes?"

"Thank you for taking my side. Can you thank Zabini for me too?"

"I will." He started to go again but she wasn't finished. She had something to ask.

"Malfoy?"

"What now? I'd like to actually work." He was smirking. She'd almost believed in his angry tone. She rolled her eyes before asking worriedly:

"What did you hear?" His face went serious then, and his jaw clenched.

"Nothing." He said quietly.

"Thanks." He nodded and she let him go this time.


	12. Chapter 12

Tuesday, May 14th, 2003.

Hermione had decided to ignore the pain that had risen in her chest at Harry's words. It had felt so unfair and unthoughtful that she hadn't recognised him. She'd managed by staying at work way past midnight, the memory of her last hangover too vivid for her to try to forget that way again.

When she woke up that morning she couldn't help but replay the argument in her head though. He'd called her a coward. He'd said she'd abandoned Ron. When Harry had been the one abandoning her and Ron the one being inconsiderate and pushing.

She had done nothing wrong but put an end to her own suffering. Right, she had done nothing wrong. She'd repeated those words to herself so much over the last few months that they didn't mean anything any more. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was the offending one after all.

But then, having Malfoy take her defence proved that Harry's opinion was biased by his friendship with Ron. If the ferret had felt like he had to say something, it definitely meant that Harry's behaviour had lacked any sense of moral.

Or it meant that she was completely crazy, the ferret hated Harry so much it could have been the right occasion for him to simply insult him. Maybe Harry was right and Malfoy petty.

No, Malfoy was ... well, maybe normal wasn't the most appropriate term, say he was sensible. Even that was odd. But he was and his company records only proved so. Whereas, he looked more indifferent and exhausted than anything else, he still had seemed shocked at Harry's words. His own had sounded outraged and revolted when they usually were sneering and sarcastic.

And he'd apologised. Words she had had trouble to link with his moving mouth. Hence why she'd forgiven him right away. Draco Malfoy had apologised to her, defended her, and sided with her. He'd even laughed with her. It was ... She had no word for that.

Hanging out with Astoria was something, Malfoy, something else entirely.

Hermione realised she'd turned the thoughts over and over in her head, until she'd reached the Ministry, and that she was nowhere near less confused. The atrium was crowded, she was late. Late but thankful, the noise made her snap out of her trance, and pushed the thoughts aside.

Until she reached Tracey's desk evidently. The witch arboured an apologetic frown that was not a good sign.

She had a visitor. In her office. The way to her door had never felt this long before.

His broad shoulders were tensed, very much like when he was about to go on auror's business for a few days. His red hair shone as he was twiddling with something on the desk, the scars on his forearm jiggling under his rolled up sleeve.

She sighed worriedly, she'd made too many scenes in the Ministry already. Kingsley had certainly heard, and if it happened twice in a row she might get in trouble.

"Ron?" He turned around, jumping. His freckled face grew sombre the instant he laid his sharp blue eyes on her, and his brows furrowed until they almost touched. Great, he was angry.

He shoved something to her then, and waited, crossing his arms above his chest. He was growing redder and redder and the vein on his temple was pounding. Hermione swallowed back her own annoyance, she couldn't loose her temper this early. She took a look at the envelope he'd ruthlessly given her but didn't dare ask him. She opened it.

It contained a check.

"Here, wish granted. I'm out of your life now." He spat. He didn't move, his glare the more intense and she was at a loss of words. What was she supposed to say? She felt a sudden stiffness grip the back of her neck and clenched her teeth. She didn't know if she felt more helpless or angry. Both feelings mingled and tangled in her jaw until she felt so tense she could break her teeth.

"You can go enjoy your freedom with ex death-eaters all you want now." He hissed and her mouth released and opened right away:

"How dare you …"

"No! You don't get to be angry about this Hermione. _You_ left me." He pointed an accusing finger at her chest and angry words tickled her tongue:

"I …"

"NO! I don't want to hear another of your excuses!"

" _Excuses_?"

"Yes, you coward! Excuses!"

"How dare you …" She boiled so hard that the words leaving her mouth sounded jerky and low. She had drown her wand unconsciously and clenched the wood so firmly she felt her knuckles crack.

"You gave up!" He accused, his face crimson and it was the drop that made her forget about troubles, but also revived too many things in her:

"No I didn't! I can't bear children you wanker! When is that going to enter your sodding skull?!"

"LIES! All lies! YOU NEVER WANTED CHILDREN WITH ME!" Her stomach dropped.

"I …" She was incapable of answering that. He was beyond delusional. But also right somehow.

"See? A coward. A liar. A traitor. Enjoy your pathetic little life now. Alone."

* * *

Draco had come to the decision that whatever had happened to Granger and the weasel, it shouldn't bother him that much. Surely spending an evening wondering AND waking up still replaying the scene in his head wasn't healthy. _Three_ fucking what anyway?

Of course now he couldn't ask her, considerate idiot as he'd been saying he hadn't heard anything. Though she knew he had, the implicit promise not to say a word had still left his bloody mouth.

He had even apologised. Oh Blaise was going to be infuriating when he'd learn.

As if not knowing exactly what he'd promised not to tell was, wasn't irritating enough. Though he might learn some more that morning. His meeting was the next day and he had to go to the ministry right now.

Late in his work, or so it was the excuse he used for himself, he apparated to the Ministry instead of taking his usual morning walk. In the lift though, he wondered if it was really simple curiosity that was scratching his forehead. He had a flash of Granger's teary face when he called Law Enforcement in the lift, that remained persistent until he reached the floor.

He stopped abruptly in his tracks at the doors. Greengrass was there, her back to him, apparently talking with Davis.

"Really? We agreed that she would show me the archives room before doing anything else."

"It was urgent. She asked me to show you around."

"Oh alright." They didn't even spot him and Davis led Greengrass next door. Draco followed, as quietly as possible. There was a silence and then Greengrass sighed:

"She's in there right?"

"Err …"

"What happened?"

"I don't think I'm supposed to tell." Davis whispered.

"What happened Tracey?" Stressed Greengrass as someone apparently rummaged through a drawer.

"I …"

"Look, just tell me if she's alright."

"Err …"

"Who?" Greengrass insisted. Draco was at the door now. Davis whispered again, he had to prick his ears:

"Ouch all right no need to be violent! Weasley came around this morning and then she locked herself in there, told me to say she had a meeting." What the hell had the weasel wanted to do with Granger? Draco bet the stupid wanker had come to insult her too.

"Weasley again? What did he want?" Greengrass wasn't bothering to keep her voice low.

"I don't know. I didn't hear much."

"What did you hear?"

"Something about her not wanting children with him. Look, they didn't make a scene or anything, he only stayed a few minutes." Children? Draco shrugged, not wanting to procreate with him had been a wise decision. He frowned then, not marrying him in the first place would have been wiser.

"Ah. You sure you don't know why?"

"No … but Potter was there Yesterday …" Davis cut herself, finally spotting Draco under her goggles. She was definitely not a pretty witch. Greengrass turned around and shot him a death glare that could rival his mother's. He'd been right, Granger and she talked. But apparently she hadn't seen Granger since the last day.

"Malfoy."

"Here, ask him, he was there." Davis then practically ran out the room, leaving them alone.

* * *

 _Alone._ Right, nothing new there.

 _Coward._ No fucking way. If nothing, he was the denying stupid coward blaming his ex-wife for suffering and not shutting her mouth about it any more.

 _Liar._ She'd never lied to him. She'd told him exactly what the healers had said. Word for word. The fact he never believed her and had kept pushing only made him delusional. As for anything else, he'd known she'd wanted to build a career. He'd known and had still insisted until she'd compromised.

 _Traitor._ Of course Harry had told him about Malfoy and probably Zabini too. Well, his reaction wasn't surprising. She didn't really care, she had no one left to betray anyway. Plus, the past was the past, old grudges were stupid, and at least Malfoy and Zabini had taken her side.

Though, they didn't know why there was a conflict in the first place. She doubted Malfoy had understood what he'd heard with Harry.

No one understood right now. _Alone._ The only one that had ever understood her had passed away a year prior, and Hermione had been too in love to listen to her back then. This time the memory gripped her heart, and she could try reading the scroll in front of her all she wanted, it didn't fade. She always came to Hermione's office on Tuesdays. She only sat once the chair was rightly settled in front of her.

" _I guess we are done for today then Miss Granger. I will see myself out as usual, but if you don't mind I would like to ask you something before I do." The old witch had both her hands folded on her lap, resting neatly atop a beige designer skirt. Her pearls jiggled around her neck as she cocked her head to a side to consider Hermione's reaction attentively. Before she could even think of a proper answer, Mrs Zabini gave her the first smile Hermione had ever witnessed from her. Her face warmed up instantly and she looked so motherly that Hermione had to take in a deep breath, knowing what was to come._

" _It is rather personal. I won't take it wrong if you wish not to answer." She added, probably seeing that Hermione wasn't feeling like discussing anything else other than work._

" _I guessed so. You can proceed." The elder witch stared at her a moment, her dark orbs usually severe, now something close to knowing, before asking:_

" _Was it you first miscarriage?" Hermione felt her stomach drop as a strong batch of tears swelled up under her eyes. She found herself at a loss of words. How had she known? Nobody knew! Not even Harry yet! She'd been expecting the elder witch to ask if everything was all right, seeing that Hermione wasn't as put together that day as she usually was, but not that._

" _I guess it was. The bad feeling goes away after a while I promise." She said, extending a hand to Hermione's clenched fingers. The touch itself was comforting. The tears finally escaped her eyes, she couldn't hold them any longer. This sinking grief was indeed the worst feeling she'd ever felt and, seeing the understanding and sincere compassion in Mrs Zabini's eyes was immensely more comforting than Ron's "It's okay, we'll try again."_

" _Sometimes talking about it helps."_

" _I … I can't …"_

" _I understand. I've lived through two before having my son. But I had no choice but to keep trying, dear. You should know that sometimes, it's not for the best to keep pushing yourself. Especially when you're only doing it for someone else."_

" _How …"_

" _I just know, darling." She patted her hands before continuing. "I can see that your priority lays here, doing what you're doing in those offices. You should never set yourself back for the others. You are such a talented and skilled witch. And so young! Try and keep true to yourself. At least until you're ready to do otherwise."_

It was a wise, wise woman the world had lost. If only she'd listened to her. It would have saved them a lot of pain. As if they hadn't both suffered enough during the war.

She shouldn't have complied for him. At least if they'd broken up, they would have without carrying the weight of loss on their shoulders. Every time Hermione thought about it, or saw a pregnant woman in the street, she felt like screaming. Ron had to feel the same.

Too bad he only acknowledged his own pain, and had never considered hers. Too bad she'd loved him so much she'd tried to give him the family he wanted, when she'd only wanted to build herself a career before considering anything like that.

Too bad he'd never believed the healers and was delusional. Death had always done that to him, he was as broken as her body.

If he needed to blame her to cope, then she'd taken the right decision divorcing him.

It'd been too much, for too long. But it didn't ease her pain however.

* * *

"You didn't hear anything?"

"No, I just told you." Draco repeated for the fourth time. If she asked again, he could very well burst into flames.

"I don't believe you."

"I … Oh fuck Greengrass! I heard but I told her I wouldn't tell."

"Oh. Okay then." Draco sighed, she seemed to be finished interrogating him. "Why did you take her side?" Or not.

"Because. Look, if you keep annoying me, I'm going to body-bind you and tuck you in one of those drawers." She was utterly unimpressed and sported a knowing smile Draco wanted to slap off her face, but she started to work and remained silent. Which was a relief. Though, his thoughts took the upper hand on his working. He'd heard some things that helped him understand what was happening.

It didn't need a genius to link the weasel's visit with Potter's. I didn't need a genius either to see that the last visit had affected her to the point of locking herself in her office again. Which had only happened a couple of times according to Greengrass herself.  
More precisely _three times_ certainly.

What had the weasel said that could be worse than what Potter had? Surely he'd blamed her for everything wrong in his life. The git was that stupid. Davis had said something about children.

Right, good thing on Granger's part. Imagine a ginger bushy-haired prat? Draco shuddered.

Wait, children? Why would he argue with her about children when they were divorced? Clearly the argument with Potter hadn't been about …

 _Three times and he kept pushing me!_

No! It couldn't be. Right, Draco was probably working his head up.

"Malfoy?" Draco jumped so hard he had trouble maintaining a straight face afterwards. Greengrass was looking at him and sighed exasperatedly: "Did you even listen?"

She knew the answer, he'd jumped. He rolled his eyes, she continued: "You insulted Potter?" Draco gave up then, sighing exasperatedly:

"He made her cry."

"Oh. Was it your way to apologise for being a complete git the other night?"

"No. I apologised for that."

"Really?" Incredulity was ugly on her.

"Yes and she forgave me. End of the discussion."

"Good." She paused and then watched him attentively before saying: "She's locked up in there."

"And?" Her eyebrows rose to her hair line, but she didn't say anything for a moment. "Worried?" He asked eventually.

"Well, if there's someone who doesn't need worry it's her but … I have a gut feeling."

Draco nodded. He had one too. And it wasn't a good one. Though there was nothing he could do about it. And why would he? He'd done enough already.

"I guess I'll see her tomorrow." Concluded Greengrass, lowering her frown to whatever she was working on. The words escaped Draco's mouth:

"And if you don't?"

"Then I'll go take care of the two wankers myself." She said. Draco didn't doubt her. She was deadly serious and would probably scare the shit out of them. Maybe he should take a job at the Ministry. Knowing Greengrass' revengeful character it would certainly be entertaining to watch her lecture the shit out of the head auror. Far more interesting than going back to his company offices and bare with yet another boring meeting with his father's old associates.

* * *

That evening, Hermione ignored the memories of the last weekend and gave up. She went to Hog's head after work.

With the very precise goal to waste her time and earn a proper headache. She hoped to numb her memories of the past two days too. Alcohol had a backfiring way to relieve one's aches though. But it felt worth it right then.

Hermione needed to silence her brain for the night. Ron's visit had revived a full batch of memories she had no wish to dig out of the concealed corner of her brain she'd shoved them into. Mrs Zabini's had been enough. Plus, she could afford going to work a bit later the next day, she'd worked her arse off since last Friday. If arguing with ex friends had one good side, it was to make her work until she couldn't feel her eyes.

Aberforth didn't comment. He didn't refuse her the bottle of firewhiskey she asked either.

* * *

Draco apparated back to the Manor that evening, an irritating uneasy feeling poking a side of his brain repeatedly. He wondered. What in hell had happened to her?

Had she really ... ? He couldn't even formulate the thought. Though it was the only thing he could think of that made sense.

He should have broken Potter's jaw. That self righteous bastard! Forcing her to say it ... Blaming and calling her a coward! Who the hell did he think he was? With his weaslette of a wife and his little brat in his perfect hero like life!

How could he blame her for loosing hers?

Shit. How unfair was that?

The woman had been bullied all her school years - and he was mostly responsible for that - had had to obliviate her parents during a war she'd fought on the front row, had been tortured - right under his bloody nose too - had had her entire life plastered on gossip papers ever since and now what?

She'd had three miscarriages?

How bad someone's life could be?

His looked like vacation next to hers. Having to bear with his father's binding contract seemed ludicrously easy next to that. How she managed to keep working her mind off, to lead a whole department of the Ministry, to stay polite with journalists and to chair trials, when only drinking a bit from time to time, he had no idea. He even drank for breakfast sometimes.

Granger was definitely something. She lived up to the public's expectations for sure. No wonder she used to look so up-tight, having to live with the two worst wankers of the country while basically doing everything. No wonder she now looked so drenched and hollow.

The scarred-goggled head auror and his right-hand wanker had never deserved her friendship. Those two bastards deserved Greengrass' wrath and more. Maybe Draco would make sure to trigger her anger. Right, maybe a lunch with Blaise was in order.

* * *

The bottle ripped from Hermione's fingers and made its way to the floor in slow motion. She saw it fall but was thoughtless. Empty. It shattered in a crash that sounded far away. Firewhiskey spread everywhere under the table and on her leather shoes. Shards of glass scattered around the room, some lodging under the cupboard, some next to her chair, some at the door. She tried to concentrate on a little piece of glass but her sight was so blurry it was nearly impossible. She'd drunk herself to oblivion. Her mind was unresponsive and she didn't feel anything.

It wasn't better. If nothing, it was worse somehow. She retrieved her wand from her sleeve, only to have it snatched from her. She met a set of piercing blue eyes. Or two, she didn't know.

"That's enough for you darling. Come with me." Aberforth grabbed her by the elbow, vanishing with a long wand the disaster she'd made.

"I'm sorry." She managed.

"It's nothing a wand can't fix." He helped her stand up and led her to the back room. She stumbled to the fireplace.

"You're not flooing back home in this state. You'll end up in the next building."

"Not possible … Muggle neighbourhood." She mumbled. He flicked his wand and a couch appeared out of nowhere. Amazing. Well, she knew how to do that too! She was a witch! She tried to draw her wand too but remembered Aberforth had it.

"Take a nap." He said, and went back to the main room, her wand with him.

"Sodding … my wand!" She babbled before letting herself fall almost next to the grayish couch.


	13. Chapter 13

Wednesday, May 14th, 2003.

When Hermione had decided to get back on her feet the previous week, having Aberforth Dumbledore floo her home himself, while she vomited her guts out on his carpet wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind.

Having to scrougify robes twenty times to get rid of the smell either.

She'd taken the last vial of pepper up she had, but it was as efficient as pumpkin juice. Her head was pounding so hard it felt like she was repeatedly hit with a brick. Her mouth was as dry as the desert, her stomach and throat painful from the vomiting and apparently the organ was as dumb as a sock. She kept gagging every ten minutes when it was as empty as a troll's head.

Still, she had to go to work, but the blurry picture the mirror gave her back as she starred at it, made her wish for polyjuice. She looked like an inferius.

She didn't dare try to apparate to the Ministry, though it would have saved time. She feared her headache would only worsen.

So she walked. The early sun added a second brick to hit her head with. Shielding herself from it with a repellent charm only drained her. When she finally reached the visitor's entrance she was feeling the more sick to her stomach.

Tracey didn't comment, if nothing she managed an impassible face and started working right away as usual. Thank Merlin for Tracey Davis.

However, working on the last details of the Foster case revealed impossible to do when feeling nauseated. Her saviour of the day sent a note, labelled personal, just as she was about to give up.

 _Lunch? Or are you still locking yourself in your office?_

Astoria Greengrass had either guessed or bribed Tracey. Either way, she knew. Hermione realised she didn't care. Astoria didn't appear to be likely to judge her. Hermione couldn't go to the cafeteria in this state though. But she wanted to go down there, Astoria's company had become something pleasant. She decided to be honest.

 _Only if you have a hangover remedy._

The response came as a delivery. Two vials. A very expensive hangover solution, and a pepper up potion.

Hermione was down at eleven thirty, sharp.

* * *

Blaise hurried up along the pavement. His cloak was way too heavy. When had the weather changed like that? It wasn't even twelve thirty yet and even his shirt felt too hot already. Wait, he lifted his right wrist into view again. He was almost thirty minutes late.

Draco would be the dramatic queen again. Blaise ran the last few steps, mingling with hurrying muggles.

How was it that muggles were always late too? Right, they couldn't apparate. Wait, why hadn't he apparated?

When he reached the Leaky Cauldron, Draco was boiling. He could see it from the door. The man was as tensed as a rubber band.

* * *

A wincing and late Blaise sat on the stool next to him. Tom had been watching Draco with a displeased frown for now twenty seven minutes. Draco wanted to hang himself again. Why did they always meet there anyway?

"Where the hell have you been?" He snapped.

"Err … at Sherry's …"

"Oh my …"

"Yes, yes, you were right. She didn't understand. But she's quite the good shag and I haven't heard from Greengrass since last week-end so …"

"About Greengrass." Draco cut himself. He needed to be cautious there.

"Yes?"

"Do me a favour. No questions asked." Blaise's eyebrows rose to the middle of his forehead in incredulity. Draco remained silent until he had to speak.

"Alright but I'll have something to ask in return."

"I had no doubt you would." Of course he had, and Draco might come to regret it later, Blaise had a tendency to ask for trouble. He sighed and told: "I want you to tell Greengrass about Weasley's interview."

"Why?"

"I said no questions." Blaise blinked, and then finally seemed to remember his last sentence. Sometimes he looked stupid. He was definitely not a morning person, because yes, noon was morning to him.

"Alright. I want you to get rid of Sherry for me. She has a crush on you. If you went out with her once, she'd be off my feet."

"Err …" Here, troubles.

"Just one date mate. You don't need to do more. You could dump her _nicely_ , as you know how to do, and she'll definitely fuck off." Well, Draco could do that, it was all he'd done with women for the past four years anyway. Have a date, be bored until he wanted to strangle himself with their hair, and dump them _nicely_.

"Agreed."

* * *

"So, McMillan was right, there's a weakness to the new regulation regarding the article seven of … Err … Oh, there, article seven, section two, paragraph three, of magical misuses control law of 1979."

Astoria Greengrass had the very nice habit of always starting with work. It was fascinatingly reminiscent of the witch facing her. Hermione couldn't feel more grateful.

"Oh, really? Show me your regulations." She asked, extending a hand.

"Here, paragraph three. About blasting ink. Those things are nasty." Astoria pointed with a finger on the right line.

"Oh, right I see the loophole. You could sell some if it's been produced in a country outside regulations. It's aberrant. I need to fix this."

"Yes. I'll send my report to McMillan this afternoon. It needs to be revised a bit so, I'll be in your archives until then."

"Of course. Tell him to come to me once he's referred of the problem to the Wizengamot. I'll propose a new clause to the law."

"Good. How's the Foster case doing?"

"Last details. Though it's a pain in the arse at this point."

Astoria gave her a knowing smirk that said long before mocking with a mischievous grin:

"No wonder, with a hangover …" Hermione didn't want to revive her headache or she would have rolled her eyes. Before she could think of an answer though, Astoria's smirk morphed into a serious expression:

" I said I wouldn't ask so, I won't. But, if you need me to kick a few arses, it would be my pleasure. Especially stupid arses of war heroes." Astoria was taking liberties. Were they becoming friends? It felt like it. How she'd known though remained a mystery.

"How …"

"Tracey speaks under pressure. Though she won't tell anyone else, I think she feels beholden of me. You know, for getting her an amazing job with a hero boss."

Hermione had a snort and bitter chuckle:

"She must be disappointed."

"Oh I doubt it. If nothing I think it's far more entertaining than to watch Blaise comb his hair every other day."

Now she had a real chuckle.

"I guess."

"So, how many bottles last night?" Astoria asked with a smile. How was it that she didn't look judgemental, even the slightest? Hermione realised she'd had the hangover potion at the office since she'd sent it in five minutes. Astoria had things to hide too apparently. Why not be honest then?

"Err … I don't remember." Astoria laughed at the confession. "Aberforth's carpet does though." She laughed the more at this one. She didn't seem mocking, it was strange.

"You are full of surprises." She grinned. "What do you say we have our proper night out Friday? Without blonds or flirting idiots?"

"Alright, but maybe not Hog's head … Aberforth had to floo me back home last night, I doubt he would appreciate doing it twice … Neither washing his carpet by hands I guess." Hermione reckoned, still feeling the shame.

"Oh, are you planning on really enjoying the evening? Or were you trying to make a joke?" She was smirking her face off. Hermione faked a vexed open mouth. Astoria burst out laughing and she followed.

* * *

"So, what happened at the Ministry yesterday?"

Blaise could look stupid all he wanted, he wasn't. Draco had to fake his surprise, and it wasn't pretty. Blaise smirked at his unsuccessful attempt at fooling him.

"Alright, I'll ask again, what happened?" He pushed.

"Yesterday?" He tried, shrugging. "Greengrass was at Law enforcement too. Nothing happened, Granger was locked in her office." Damn. Wrong thing to say. How was it that with everyone else, it was easy to pretend, but with someone he knew since he was born, it wasn't? If nothing it should be easier! He knew the idiot by heart! Shit, so did he.

"I see. What happened Monday then?"

"I can't tell Blaise."

"I'm sure you can."

"No I said I wouldn't."

"Liar." Yes, he knew Blaise by heart, and this could last hours. He gave up and told him what he could without going into details:

"Potter made Granger cry so I insulted him. I apologised for Friday, she forgave me. Then, yesterday morning, Weasley was in her office before I went there, and apparently they argued for a minute and then she locked herself in it."

"Again? So what, is that … Oh, you want Greengrass to tell her, right?"

"Err … yes. At least she'll be warned." Draco shrugged. Blaise chuckled:

"Yeah right. You don't know Astoria. Sure she'll warn her but I'm certain she'll do something about it."

"I kind of hoped she would." Draco confessed.

"Oh you sneaky little blond." Blaise chuckled. "Who likes Granger beaver now?"

"Shut up. I don't like her, I just don't appreciate seeing her cry. Disturbs my work."

Blaise didn't even attempt to hide, he burst out laughing: "Yeah right! And I'm ugly!"

"That you are."

"Greengrass disagrees."

"She's blind then."

"Oh shut up. Now, what is it you promised not to tell exactly?"

"Are you that dumb?" He rolled his eyes:

"No, I am not. I just want to know if it's something she said or …"

"It's what they argued about with Potter."

"Okay. Did you say I promise?"

"Yes." Why he lied, he didn't know. What he knew was that he needed to change the subject before Blaise noticed: "She asked me to thank you by the way."

"What? Why?" Blaise startled.

"I was right, Greengrass told her about your little argument with the wankers."

"Oh, and she thanks me?"

"For taking her side."

"Damn. She likes me now, doesn't she?" He cringed. "Why didn't you insult her or something?"

"Because she was crying you dumbass."

"Oh right. Don't tell her where I live though. I mean, she's not that unpleasant to look at but … Definitely too bossy for me. And that hair of hers … Err." He shuddered mockingly.

"Right, I'll just tell her you enjoyed Friday night, and worry about her then. Sounds good to you?"

"You wouldn't!"

"Why not? It's true." Turning the mockery upside down was way more pleasant than to have Blaise squeeze things out of him.

* * *

After his late lunch with Draco, Blaise decided to get rid of his favour doing. First, he owled Sherry and gave her Draco's contact informations, the lad was so paranoid owls were banned from his home unless given a very specific address. Then, he lectured a not-so-random employee – this one wore a very interesting translucent blouse under her open robe - just to pass time, signed a few whatever, and walked to the Ministry.

Owling or floo-calling her would look desperate, especially since she hadn't first, but waiting for her after work, nonchalantly leaning against the brick wall would surely have its little effect. Blaise only hoped she didn't disapparated out of work. How stupid would he look if he waited all night, eh?

Walking inside the Ministry was out of the question though, security checking took too long for nothing. The only times he went there were under obligation – except when drinking was allowed - in order to sign those regulations papers at Granger's secretary desk. Now that he thought of it, Davis was her new secretary. Maybe the next trip there would be interesting.

He got lucky, he was always lucky, she was out the Ministry and he had only waited thirty minutes.

"Greengrass, what a surprise!" Her sceptical lifted eyebrow made him chuckle. "Don't like my catch phrase?"

"Not an ounce. What do you want Blaise?" She sighed. He smirked and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"If you let me walk you home I'll tell you."

She sighed, but he saw how she refrained a small smile. He would definitely spend a very pleasant night. And he was only doing it for Draco. How convenient.

* * *

 _Draco,_

 _How unexpected of you to ask Blaise about me! I was very flattered. Is Saturday evening, seven o'clock, at Madam Pudifoot's alright with you?_

 _If not, I understand some men don't like going there, we could go to the Three Broomsticks._

 _I am looking forward to our date!_

 _Yours,_

 _Sherry._

In what horrific situation had he jumped into? Madam Pudifoot's? Seriously? He was banned from the Three Broomstick since sixth year. How was it that she didn't know that? Yet she was definitely the type to read gossip papers! Oh, right, she wanted to go to that horrid place.

Draco growled under his breath for a good half hour before eventually writing a two sentence answer. He agreed to Madam sodding Pudifoot's but made it clear that he had to go home early. He didn't explain why, she called herself his even before meeting him. She surely wasn't the love of his life. Plus, a woman as naive as to believe Blaise had ever wanted anything serious with her was definitely in lack of brain cells. Also her loyalty was questionable, who goes on a date with someone's best friend when you just got out of bed with that someone?

He dreaded even the thought of having a "date" with her.

Why was he doing that again? Oh, right. To help the book-worm. What in hell had gotten him? He had lost his mind. Right, Potter and the weasel's stupidity were the loss of him. If only his need to pry had stayed where it belonged, deeply buried in his head. If only.

Now that he'd heard, he was ready, even if horrified, to spent the worst night of his life, just to have Granger warned that something atrocious was probably going to happen to her, again.

Good Samaritan Malfoy. Ludicrous. Maybe he should tell his father's portrait, just for the bliss of seeing it choke to … Err … Not death.


	14. Chapter 14

Thursday, May 16th, 2003.

Hermione received the last meeting summary she would before the Foster trial she was to chair. Last details were incredibly important and most thankfully keeping her mind off of things non-work related. When she finished reading it that morning, Tracey only arrived. They discussed the matter together, Hermione was in great need of an outsider point of view.

She'd been buried in this case for several months on, and even if her personal issues had never, ever, altered her working pattern, she still felt like the recent events or more scenes she'd made, might have gotten her to overview something.

She doubted it, Tracey too, but still. Last checking wouldn't hurt anyone.

After three hours of reviewing, reading, cross checking, list making, etc., she didn't really thank Merlin for Tracey Davis any longer.  
Although the witch had proved pragmatic and clever beyond anything expected of her, also very good at her job _s_ , her knowledge in Laws revealed limited.

As one who worked for Improper use of Magic, Astoria had a vast knowledge of Laws, she didn't make them but she made sure they were applied, and if she were to have a spare lunch, Hermione would kill to review the case with her. Whether the legality of such a thing could be considered questionable.

So, for the first time, she sent a note first.

 _Fancy an early working lunch with me? Would use your opinion._

* * *

It was when he received the second threatening letter that morning, that Draco started to bitterly regret not having spent his previous lunch with Blaise complaining, instead of trying to somehow do something for Hermione sodding Granger.

The long awaited meeting with his father's past associates had only seemed to go smoothly. While he'd only offered to hire one of them, the others had pretended to take the dismissal the proper civil way.

It had, of course, only been for appearances.

Now, as the charmed letter, presumably written with a magically inking quill, burned into ashes in his office fireplace, Draco had no precise knowledge of who wanted him dead.

Well he had, but they were eight suspected people, all registered as questionable associations in Granger's archives and also a whole bunch of random people from the war.

Nonetheless, as well as not feeling threatened at all - his security wards at the manor AND at his office were the best that could be bought - he still felt so tired of it all, it went beyond the imagination of Nicolas Flamel.

Living under the obligation of managing this Salazar forsaken company was his damnation. Draco had enough money in his personal vault at Gringott's to live a good ten lives without worrying about anything but which bottle of firewhiskey to drink from.

Yet, he was stuck in this bloody office. His father remained his nemesis even in death.

Maybe he'd try again setting his sodding portrait on fire. He snorted at the thought, like that would work. When he'd tried, all he'd managed to do was set his wardrobe on fire. He'd had to buy a whole new one and shopping with Blaise was definitely not his thing.

Plus, the definite inevitability of the binding contract he was under, only made him dread every single day spent there. His father may have been the worst corrupted scammer of the country, he had also been undeniably clever and calculative. While he'd wished to disown his son upon his death bed – only because Draco had chosen that very moment to tell him what he thought of him – he had nonetheless planned Draco's future meticulously.

When he'd thought Draco had been worthy of his estate, he'd made him sign a contract that would make him the sole heir and owner of his company, shall Lucius die. Draco had only been seventeen by then, and upon the end of a war, as any other young adult full of hopes, he'd trusted his father not to scam him too.

Well, too bad he hadn't read the contract.

Now, he was obligated by oath to lead the company, up until he had an heir of age to take his place.

Draco could, though, have delegated about half his duty to anyone of his choosing but … Upon taking leadership in this office, he'd discovered how rotten the company was, and decided to recast it entirely, not in an ounce willing to perpetuate his father's ways.

The job was tremendously horrid but he hadn't been able to leave things how they were, to keep sullying his name. The war had done that perfectly well already.

So, he'd fired, hired, met, read regulations, booked controls, followed Laws scrupulously ever since.

All these days spent working until he couldn't feel his eyes for what? Receiving death threats. Having to fire more incompetent people. Feeling brainless and so tired at the end of the day that he couldn't keep going without drinking at least two glasses of firewhiskey.

That lunch, he drank three. His day quota was outdated and it wasn't even one o'clock yet.

If only he could find a solution to escape his ordeal. He couldn't even sell the company it was forbidden. The only solution was to bring an innocent child – from a suitable marriage of course – into the world, and to leave the burden on his shoulders instead.  
What kind of monster would do such a thing? A very tired and depressed monster probably. Draco wasn't there though, not yet.

His father had even ruined his chances of having a happy marriage and building a family one day. Right, he would never impose such a fate on an innocent being. He wouldn't get married either. What woman would ever want of him, except for his money, if he wasn't even able to give her a child anyway? Draco would never have a child. He would never be a father.

His thought suddenly drifted to Granger. Unexpectedly, she'd been out of his head since his lunch with Blaise. Granger had lost three children.

Draco was still lucky in some twisted way. He would never have a child to loose.

He guessed it was less horrific to simply not make them – and not ruining any life doing so – than to have them, and then be ripped off them even before holding them.

Draco took a fourth drink. He was miserable. He needed a break. He needed Blaise, again.

* * *

Hermione only allowed herself to start fidgeting when four o'clock came, and Astoria had still not answered her note. Surely she was busy, and having to spend a lunch alone reading for the thousandth time the same thing wasn't the worst thing that had happened to her. That day.

Well, she didn't so much allow herself to over-think, than she couldn't help it. Astoria had always initiated their lunches, and Hermione had always responded positively. And the complete lack of response was unnerving. Whether she rationalised and told herself it was stupid to even mind it, she seemed to have lost all control on her nerves.

Had, what she'd thought had been a start of friendship, been only a shallow one-sided thing? Surely not, logic told her, surely yes you pathetic little _alone_ thing, a nasty, annoying and probably evil voice told her.

Her decision to get over her personal shit suddenly felt to rely only on Astoria Greengrass' character.

How pathetic was that?

Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, war hero, head of a ministry department, reduced to a depressed little _alone_ thing that relied on a single acquaintance as for soothing her mood swings.

Pathetic.

Pitiful.

No wonder people had been only pitied stares and whispers around her. No wonder they'd given her only honeyed words and cautious faked smiles.

Surely the very healthy face she sported those days wasn't arranging things either.

It must have been reason enough for Judith to try be cautious around her. Caroline too. Those bitches had been the ones talking at her back though. The one spreading the news that the golden stupid girl was no longer as shiny as gossip magazines had tried to make her look for years.

How shattered was the picture then?

Surely the magazines ought to have a few pictures of her stumbling out of Hog's Head by then. They must have some of Ron's speech at commemoration too. The link they surely made between the two must be funny to read.

"Hermione Granger: alone and drunk head of law enforcement."

"Nasty divorce. Who cheated on who?"

Ludicrous. How long before they started attacking the only constant in her life now? Her job was all she had left.

She didn't even have any friends any more.

She had no hope to ever get married and build a family either. It was irrevocable. She would never be a mother.

Pitiful.

 _Healer Bradley looked at the ugly but tiny scar closely._

" _You should have told me sooner. It can't have nothing to do with your issues. I'm sorry but I'm pretty sure your uterus suffered from the impact of the curse."_

" _I thought so."_

" _Usually the caster aims for the chest as it's more effective when it blocks the breathing. The curse spreads through the nerves, if they're tense it is even more efficient. Targeting the lower abdomen is uncommon. Most of the time it's due to a bad aim, therefore the exposure is never this severe. It must certainly have impacted your reproductive system. I am really sorry miss Granger. If only you'd come to me sooner …"_

 _He'd only come with a complete diagnosis the next day._

" _I am afraid that I can only confirm our suspicions. The damage is permanent. The curse was really powerful. Plus, the presence of multiple impacts seems to have only aggravated the situation. Adding the fact that it wasn't healed properly … I am very sorry."_

" _Not your fault."_

" _May I ask …"_

" _Bellatrix Lestrange."_

" _Oh. I see." He seemed suddenly fidgety. "Em if you'd like I can explain the situation to your husband."_

" _No, I'll … I'll tell him myself."_

Yes it had been pity spreading on his face. Fallen war heroine. Unable to bear a child.

 _Alone._

Hermione snapped back to reality when a note came flying through her ajar door. A note labelled personal. She wiped tears she hadn't realised had been rolling down her cheeks with a sleeve, then she unfolded the piece of parchment.

 _I was out of the Ministry today! I only just saw your note! Let's delay to tomorrow, usual time. I have things to tell you anyway._

The relief was almost overwhelming until it was replaced with another strong feeling. Hermione felt so stupid now. Mounting her head up all by herself. Over one single unanswered note. Astoria had been busy. If only she'd listened to her logical brain, and not her depressed and dejected heart.

Was it how depression worked? She'd thought she was stronger than that. She'd thought she could overcome all this.

Yet she was still able to make herself feel miserable and pathetic in the course of a single day.

She was smarter than that! Merlin forbid she'd herself be the reason of her constant dreary mood.

She was stronger than that, she'd outlived a bloody war!

She was strong, talented, smart, witty and err … maybe a bit too skinny but it was out of the subject.

She didn't have friends ? So be it. Who cared when there was a very important trial to chair soon, Laws to update, a Wizengamot to convince?

Plus, if she weren't mounting her head again, there was also a bunch of very witty Slytherins around that even if she'd tried to avoid she kept seeing everywhere.

Astoria was brilliant and funny and even if no friendship resulted of their lunches and going out Hermione saw no reason not to enjoy her time with her.

As for what people thought, fuck them. As long as no one questioned her work she didn't care.

She smiled, if she were to go out with Astoria again surely the gossip papers would find that more interesting than Harry and Ron's speeches. Unusual associations always had the upper hand on old boring discourses everyone had heard a thousand times.

She couldn't wait to read that article. Maybe she'd buy her first witch weekly soon. If she was going to feel like crap anyway she wouldn't spare herself a good laugh.

* * *

Blaise had been promptly sent back home way too early to his taste by a very pissed off Astoria Greengrass the previous night. He hadn't even been able to negotiate an angry round in bed. Or a thank you one. When they'd reached her front door, after about forty five inhuman minutes of walking, she'd invited him in, to the condition that he told her right away why he was really there.

Trying to charm her into giving in before would have been useless, but he'd thought the little smile at the corner of her lips had meant that she'd comply after.

He never could have guessed she'd be pissed off to no end once he'd told her. She'd sworn under her breath for a good ten minutes, and then started plotting something supposedly nasty, watching the wall blankly and counting something on her fingers.

Blaise had patiently waited, until she'd asked the question:

"Why tell me this?" He'd been so bored and impatient that he'd told the truth without the need for torture from her part:

"Draco asked me to. He wanted her to be warned."

"Why no do it himself?"

"Because he expects you to do something about it. It's not like there's something he can do."

"Good. I have a few calls to make, if you don't mind … I'll see you later."

And he'd been dismissed, shoved towards her front door, just before she'd banged it, pestering angrily for herself.

Blaise had had no idea Astoria liked Granger this much. Draco had hit right. As always. The lad was the most depressed and angry – although he hid it perfectly – lad in England, but he never did something without knowing for sure it would work.

And the one screwed in all his mischievous scheming, was Blaise Zabini, not shagging that night.

Well, he'd gotten rid of Sherry as a price. Now, he only needed to convince Astoria to welcome him past her living-room.

He guessed he would have to wait for her to complete her promise of keeping him posted, so he could report to Draco and invite himself at her place to say _thank you._

His patience was draining off when he finally received an owl that afternoon. She had managed something nasty that Blaise needed to tell Draco about absolutely. A lunch with his best friend was in order. Surely the lad would be pleased. Maybe he would smile for once.

And it wasn't even the best part, she wanted to thank him on Saturday night.

Blaise was about to write to his best friend when Draco's owl tapped his window glass. How convenient.

 _I need a break. Tomorrow, usual time, usual place._

Damn. Blaise hadn't expected another break until at least Saturday. Draco had to really need it. Oh right, he had forgotten about his friend's meeting the previous day. He hadn't even asked. Seeing Draco think about anything but work and all about Granger had been distracting.

Blaise had naively thought that Draco had his mind off of things. The past weeks spent talking about Greengrass or the golden trio had seemed to shift his mood.

He'd been wrong apparently.

Maybe Astoria's letter would shift things again. Right. Maybe. Blaise only had that anyway. His presence wasn't enough to lift the lad's mood any more.

They used to meet only maybe once or twice a month when Draco had started working under Lucius' oath, but soon their breaks had occurred more often and lasted longer.

Seeing his best friend loose himself like that was sickening. If Draco refused to find a solution, and if the Granger-Greengrass-Potter-Weasley case proved to not be enough, he would find one himself. He didn't even need to answer, Draco knew he'd come so, instead of writing, Blaise spent his evening role playing Granger: researching a solution to a contract issue.


	15. Chapter 15

Friday, May 17th, 2003.

Hermione felt slightly better than the previous day as she walked down the street to the Ministry. The air was already warm and she thanked her cautious brain for only wearing her transfigured robes atop her clothes.

Her mood had significantly lightened as the clouds had deserted the sky and she reached the Ministry well disposed and ready to ignore anyone but Tracey and Astoria.

Of course luck wasn't her friend, Caroline was waiting for the lift when she took it. Hermione almost sighed exasperatedly as the woman shot her a death glare or her poor version of a death glare anyway.

Hermione decided to not retaliate though, she was cleverer than that. She smiled, a fake and ugly contortion of her mouth that only had the effect to infuriate the witch even further.

When she reached Tracey's desk she almost laughed at her own viciousness. She'd smirked her face off at the gossipy bitch and guess what? She didn't even feel guilty about it. Tracey chuckled but didn't comment. Hermione thanked Merlin for Tracey Davis, again.

* * *

Blaise had abandoned his researches quite quickly the previous night. Without Draco's contract he had only been able to look out for oath breaking and the news weren't pleasant. There was no way to break an oath except with the accord of both involved parties. Lucius Malfoy was long dead and buried - which would have broken a regular oath, not a contracted one - and even if he were alive, there wouldn't be the slightest chance he'd agree to break it.

He needed an expert and unfortunately he didn't know anyone who would be willing to get involved in anything Draco related. Old war grudges still held, even if civility prevailed nowadays. He snorted at his own thoughts, civility was definitely gone since both he and Draco had insulted those wankers.

There was nothing he could do to help his friend.

Standing from his home desk, he rubbed his face in his hands. The only thing he had left to try be a good friend, was to distract Draco the best he could. If he went now, he would be on time for once in his life. So, he did.

He apparated in a corner of the muggle street he usually apparated to, to go to the Ministry, and passed the red telephone booth, heading for the Leaky Cauldron. Apparating in Diagon Alley always ended up making him late, whether it was because he encountered some pretty witch on the way or like that time he'd seen Granger in the apothecary.

Granger. It'd been right under his nose and he hadn't even thought of it. If someone was able to find a loophole in a contract it had to be the head of Law Enforcement, the brightest bossy witch of their age. Plus, she liked him now.

Why hadn't he thought of it before? Berating himself for being the reason he would be late this time, he came at an abrupt stop where Charing Cross road met Little Newport street and turned around back to the Ministry. He ran to the red telephone booth and once inside, quickly transfigured a lonely coin into a wrinkled piece of parchment. He tapped his wand to write a message and charmed it so only Astoria would be able to read it. Or anyone else curious enough to shoot the easy counter-charm, but he didn't have time to think about that. He didn't go down with the booth, but jumped out of it, only leaving his charmed note to find its addressee.

* * *

Blaise was late, which had stopped being infuriating after a few years, it was only mildly irritating now. Draco didn't really care any more but his boredom made him daydream of hanging ropes again. The fact that he gave up on waiting for Blaise only surprised Tom. The bald old man didn't comment though.

Draco had downed slowly half of his drink when Blaise finally made an appearance. He was grimacing apologetically which was disconcerting.

"Sorry, I had things to do." This was even more strange. Blaise never had anything to do but flirt and try on new bed sheets from bedrooms of random witches.

"Either this is a lie or someone has died. Considering the fact that you do not care for the rest of your family or have any other friends than myself, I have better ask why you would lie to me." He didn't really care about what had kept Blaise but lying was not welcome.

"Err … Great mood, I see. Look, I told Greengrass about Weasley's interview."

"Good." Draco nodded, and returned to his drink. At least Granger would know what was coming at her. He'd done what he could. He only hoped Greengrass liked Granger as much as he'd presumed.

"Good? That's it?"

"What am I supposed to say? Thank you so much for asking her AND for the dreadful date I'm about to endure in return?" Blaise sighed, if Draco's _good_ mood had been denied inwardly, and slightly eased by what Blaise had said, it was apparently still clearly audible.

"Right. Tom? Another." Blaise knew better than to retaliate his friend's tone though, and Draco could only be grateful. He was incapable of saying so, but seeing his best friend order another drink instead of arguing with him was probably proof that he knew.

Once they'd silently downed the blurry glasses Tom had pushed to them on the counter-top, Draco was starting to feel a bit better. Blaise watched him a few seconds before apparently concluding the same.

"So, I told Greengrass. She sent this." Draco grabbed the letter Blaise had practically thrown to him. If he endured Draco's moods without a word, he was still irritated by them.

 _Blaise,_

 _I will tell Hermione about the interview at lunch. Doing things at her back is certainly a very bad idea so I'll see what she wants to do about it, but I have two back up plans._

 _Rita is a bitch and she refused to change anything about the interview, she swore nothing bad about her was in there though, which I didn't believe for a second. What she doesn't know is that the publisher is Pansy's second cousin and that he has a crush on me._

 _I arranged for things to be either published as a small column the day they publish about the next trial she'll win, of course with a really flattering war-heroin portrait attached. Oh and obviously the picture of Weasley will be replaced with a really nasty one from the commemoration after-party where he puked on the carpet (I always suspected you were responsible for that so, thank you)._

 _Or, in the eventuality that she looses (even the publisher laughed at that) the picture will get front page, and there will be a mistake with the printing, the interview will end up unreadable._

 _I couldn't do better, Rita is adamant that it goes out anyway. I can't wait to find out what's in it._

 _Now, to thank you …_

Blaise snatched the letter out of his hands before he could read the end.

"That's personal next." He smirked.

"Err … she should thank me, not you."

"What can I do? She's all over me." Draco smirked:

"Granger will be too." That definitely removed any smirk from Blaise's face.

"Err, no Astoria won't tell her."

"To quote you mate: yeah right, and I'm ugly."

* * *

Hermione came down to the cafeteria with her notes, that she'd carefully charmed so no one could read them. If she were to reveal some confidential notes to Astoria, she wasn't about to get caught. However, she forgot about the file she was holding as soon as she sat down facing her. Astoria harboured a serious expression that Hermione had never seen on her.

"What's going on?" She asked. Astoria sighed and this time, she didn't start with work.

"I have bad news."

"Go on."

"The daily prophet is going to publish an interview of your ex-husband soon. I tried to have it cancelled, but Rita Skeeter is a nasty bitch."

"Rita? Ron's made an interview with Rita?" Surely it wasn't possible. Whatever conflict between them, Ron hated Rita Skeeter as much as she, for what she'd done to Harry before the war.

"Not exactly. It was with Creevey but Rita is in charge of that section of the prophet. She wouldn't budge, she said nothing nasty about you will be said but …" Oh, that was certain. Hermione couldn't hold back a little laugh. Astoria's frown was quite the sight. She looked like Tracey with a wig. It was so disconcerting that Hermione started to explain:

"Don't worry about Rita Skeeter. The prophet will never publish anything nasty against me. I'd be worried if it were Witch Weekly though."

"What do you mean? Rita can be …"

"A huge bitch yes. But not to me." Hermione felt her lips lift into a triumphant smile she'd only sported years prior, the day she'd released Rita from her jar. Astoria's confusion morphed into surprise and then understanding before she whispered, bending over their forgotten lunch to get closer to Hermione:

"What in hell did you do?" She looked so expectant that Hermione didn't have the heart to deceive her. She'd never told anyone but Harry and Ron about it, but Astoria actually being worried and warning her about the interview was enough to install trust between them. So, she confessed.

* * *

"So? Pleased?" Draco shrugged, pleased was not the exact feeling but it was still satisfying to know that the weasel would certainly end up being mocked by the entire wizarding community for a few months.

"I don't know what he was planning to say in that interview, but if he ends up ridiculed, I couldn't have asked for better."

"Right. I wish I could see his face when the picture goes out." Indeed Blaise looked ecstatic. Draco chuckled. He remembered exactly when it had happened, even if they'd been on their way out of the after-party, Blaise's smirk had been pasted on his face for a good hour. Draco had never asked but he'd known Blaise's favourite game.

"What did you put in his drink?"

"I wondered if you'd ever ask. He only drank one of the puking little candy his own brother sells. I found the irony of it all funny. I don't know who took the picture though, Potter was all over the place to avoid it."

"Mm." Whoever it was deserved a medal. Since the war, no one had been able to have anything remotely close to a bad line published about the Golden trio in the Daily Prophet. Even if Witch Weekly had taken the deed quite vehemently, it remained only a gossip paper, people didn't take it too seriously. But a picture like that in the mostly read wizarding newspaper will definitely outdo all the good picturing done for years. Draco had wished for their image to shatter and his wish had just been granted. The fact that Granger wasn't part of it any more and that he was somehow grateful for it, he decided not to think about.

"So, work?" Blaise's eyebrows were almost joined in concern. They always tried not to discuss it too much, but Blaise knew Draco, surely he thought that distracting him wasn't enough.

"Err … Two death threats sent by letters yesterday. I fired another assistant and can't find another one."

"I take it you didn't associate with anyone then?"

"Only one, Nott senior's company. Granger's recordings were good, I couldn't dismiss them all."

"Mm. I guess. Theo's not a bad lad. Though I don't understand why he's always hooked to Pansy."

"I don't either. I checked his father's records though and he has no business with the Parkinsons so …"

* * *

Astoria gracefully wiped a single tear of laughter off her face with her paper napkin. Even with the cafeteria's poor decor she managed to pull a perfect attitude.

"I can't believe you ever were sorted in Gryffindor Hermione! I worried for nothing! I should have guessed you wouldn't need my meddling."

"Meddling?" Astoria gave some time for her smirk to take effect before answering:

"Well, I managed to have the interview picture replaced with something not pretty. And if you agree, the interview can be published when the out-come of the Foster trial is too."

"Oh. Is that why you were out yesterday?"

"Yes." She nodded, and continued right away before Hermione could process it: "Oh, and if you were to loose, there would be a mistake with the printing. It would end up unreadable." She smirked. Hermione couldn't believe Astoria would take a day off the Ministry to make sure that the interview wouldn't hurt her in any way.

"You … Why did you do that?" Obviously Astoria hadn't expected the question. She shrugged:

"Err … for multiple reasons."

"Which are? I … I mean, thank you so much but … you took a day _off_." Astoria chuckled.

"You know it's not because your friends are shitty that everyone else is. I didn't want you to lock yourself in you office for a week again."

"Oh ... Thank you."

"It's nothing." She waved. As she was about to grab the file Hermione had brought, the multiple reasons she had mentioned tickled Hermione's curiosity.

"What other reason?" She asked. Astoria smiled, as if she'd been waiting for the question.

"Well, I suppose I never promised not to tell … Malfoy asked Blaise to tell me. He knew I'd warn you and do something about it."

"Malfoy? Really?" Astoria nodded with a cornered smile Hermione decided not to interpret. Malfoy? Draco apologising Malfoy had wanted her warned? Well, after witnessing her argument with Harry she guessed that it was what a friend would do. But Malfoy was _not_ her friend. They weren't even acquaintances. Hermione supposed that after his apologies they would be in relatively good terms but this was just …

Both witches were snapped out of their trance, a smirking one for Astoria, a thinking one for Hermione, when a flying note came poking Astoria's raven hair.

She unfolded it quickly. Once she'd read it, she frowned for a moment and suddenly rose from her seat.

"I need to answer that. I might have work to catch up tonight, do you mind if we go out tomorrow night instead?"

"Oh, no, not at all." Hermione had actually forgotten that they were supposed to go out. She felt even more stupid about her depressing thoughts of the previous day.

"Good. I'll owl you! See you!" She smiled as she walked away.

They had spent an entire lunch talking about anything but work and Hermione was suddenly reminded that she had work to do too. She would have to do without Astoria's opinion. As she stood from her seat though, she realised Astoria had taken the file. She smiled. Work prevailed, and as she recalled their conversation, Hermione knew that she had just made herself a new friend. A new friend she would return the favour to one day.

What she couldn't analyse or process were Zabini and Malfoy's involvement in all this favour doing. She could wreck her mind all she wanted, she didn't understand where their concern really came from. Zabini had mentioned his Grandmother to Astoria, maybe he was as thoughtful as the elder witch had been after all. As for Malfoy … he'd apologised. Maybe she had underestimated the length to which he'd changed. Whatever their reasons, she was grateful, and she should thank them both.

* * *

After a whole lunch of complaining extracted of his system, Draco felt slightly better. The Granger talk had taken his mind off of things, and the detailing of his dreadful company meetings to Blaise, had released some of the tension in his shoulders.

They'd fallen silent, and Blaise didn't seem in any hurry. Draco was, but he didn't feel like going. The companionable silence was a thousand times better than going back to work would be.

Blaise broke it after a moment though:

"I know I told you already but … why don't you delegate a bit? I know, I know. But the company is working just fine now, and you could still manage things from home. Hiring someone to …"

"Indeed we already discussed this. I don't trust someone enough to delegate Blaise." Good, his slightly better mood had shifted again.

"Right. Look, maybe you could have the contract analysed then, there has to be a loophole somewhere …"

"There isn't. I read it a thousand times."

"You're no expert Draco …"

"Enough. I don't want to talk about that." Blaise didn't get any chance to answer, as an owl engulfed itself by a window a patron had decided to open. It landed in his empty plate.

"What is it?" Blaise stood before answering:

"Business. I need to answer. Look, think about it alright? Owl me." And he was gone. Talking about Granger had made Draco forget about his greeting lie that he'd had things to do. Obviously it hadn't been a lie. Draco would definitely have to find out what was going on with him.

* * *

Blaise stormed out of the Leaky Cauldron, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. Astoria Greengrass. He had no word to describe the excitement he felt at the perspective of meeting her a day in advance. She had just sent a note, asking to meet him at her place that night, adding that she had an idea to help Draco AND a nice negligee she was willing for him to rip off her.

If he had been someone different, he would have bought a wedding ring. But he was Blaise Zabini, and there was no way in hell he would follow that instinct.

Although a woman as stunning and cunning as Astoria Greengrass, all willing to help him and his best friend, as well as ready to rock him off his feet in bed, deserved the benefit of the doubt.

He couldn't wait to see what she'd planned. Whether it was for Draco or for himself.

* * *

Hermione received the promised owl at her place just as she was about to go to bed. She'd stayed at the Ministry almost until midnight, trying to catch up on the checking she'd forgotten about after Astoria's lunch news. She hadn't been able to wrap her mind around what Malfoy had done, but she hadn't been able to resolve to writing a thank you note either.

 _Hermione,_

 _I sent the documents back to your office, I joined my opinion on them to this letter. It's charmed of course, the same way you charmed yours (took me half an hour to figure it out, well done).  
Is Hog's Head alright with you for tomorrow night? I doubt Aberforth is the type to hold grudges and at least there wouldn't be any reporters there. Say nine o'clock?_

 _Please don't tell Malfoy I told you the news came from him, Blaise just told me I wasn't supposed to. (I would have anyway, but we don't want an angry blond now, do we?)_

 _Keep me posted for tomorrow by return owl._

 _Astoria_

Well, good thing she hadn't written then. Malfoy doing something nice, again, but making sure no one knew about it, was a bit less out of character. It still didn't really make sense but at least she wouldn't have to live through the awkwardness of thanking him again.

* * *

 _Draco,_

 _Seeing that your mood is as horrific as Bullstrode's face, and that I am partly responsible for that with Sherry, let's say I wait for you in Hog's head after you dump her. My bet is nine thirty, if you dump her before she'll know something is up anyway._

 _See you tomorrow,_

 _Blaise._

At least Blaise was trying to make it up to him. Draco would definitely need a drink after meeting her. Plus, a drunk Blaise was more talkative and it would be easier to make him say what he was up to.


	16. Chapter 16

Saturday, May 17th, 2003.

Part one: Fortuitous (?) encounters.

Astoria's notes had provided Hermione with a working Saturday she was beyond grateful for. With the events of the week, she'd dreaded the perspective of spending a week-end alone with her thoughts. Thankfully, she'd managed to extend her work to the middle of the afternoon.

It was only then, when there was nothing left for her to do but read for the hundredth time her perfectly corrected notes, that she decided to just get out of her crappy apartment. Right, she'd just run a few errands before heading to Hog's Head.

Apparating to Diagon Alley, she walked to the apothecary. She bought what she'd need for a batch of pepper up, and taking her time in the deserted aisles, she also grabbed a few things to try reproduce that hangover solution Astoria had given her once. There was no Blaise Zabini in sight this time.

Hermione only hoped that her night out wouldn't be interrupted again. Although she had to admit that meeting Zabini or Malfoy after what Astoria had told her, would probably give her the occasion to try understand why they'd meddled. She still wished to have a good time though.

Thinking about it, until Malfoy screwed it up the last time, she'd had a relatively good evening.

It was with this thought that she got out of the apothecary, and bumped right in someone. Someone with red hair.

"Ouch! Careful! Oh. Hermione."

* * *

Draco took a deep breath in front of his mirror. The last button of his collar was giving him a hard time. Since when everything he did had become this difficult? After spending a whole day working, he'd ended up thinking about what Blaise had told him again. He'd read the contract another time.

No bloody loophole. An heir or nothing.

Maybe if she was pretty enough, he could see if Sherry ... Err. He was too tired.

Passing a hand through his hair, he practised one last time the slightly bored expression his mother had taught him, at a time she still spoke to him. He needed practise nowadays. Keeping his composure had become harder and harder with time.

Giving up, he sighed, and apparated to Hogsmeade. There, he walked as slowly as possible to the dreadful tea shop.

He was a few steps away when someone got out of the Three Broomsticks at his right. The Weaslette, tightly holding her little ugly brat in her arms, saw him right away. She was with one of her brothers, Draco recognised him from the three wizard tournament. He didn't know his name but knew that he worked with dragons.

"Hey Malfoy! Here Charlie, hold him." She gave her brat to her brother and Draco stopped in his tracks. What the hell did she want?

"I'm in a hurry Potter." He snarled defensively, realising that her stupid husband had probably told her about their Ministry _civil_ conversation.

"I don't give a shit. Just mind your own business from now on, okay? Stay away from my family. And from Hermione." She warned, turning red. He almost laughed at her presumptuousness. Who the hell did she think she was? He snorted in starting anger:

"Like your lot cares about Granger." He cut her as she was about to answer, her nostrils widening. "Maybe you should mind your own bastard of a husband, Potter. He's the one making Granger cry, not me." Apparently she hadn't known that precise detail. Good.

Half very angry and half satisfied with the effect he'd had on the ginger female, he entered Madam Pudifoot's, nowhere near ready to face Sherry. And it was the least to say that he wasn't in a very good mood.

* * *

George. Hermione had no idea what to say. She hadn't seen the tall thin ginger man since the last Christmas party. She had no idea what he thought of her and his face didn't betray in anyway what he was thinking.

"Err ... Hi George." He cocked his head to a side, inspecting her, his face devoid of any emotions. Hermione started to feel uncomfortable and as he didn't say anything, realised he was probably taking his brother's side. She gave a quick false smile and moved to his side to go away.

"Wait." She turned around only after taking a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever was to come. She hadn't expected his words:

"I'm sorry for what happened between you and Ron. It's a shame he's too thick to understand what it's like." A slow and sad smile creased his mouth. She knew that smile by heart. Except when he was laughing, it was the only way he'd smiled since Fred's death. Hermione didn't doubt his words for a second. Even if she'd never been very close to the Weasley twins, she still knew George enough to know when he was genuine. And George was talking about loss. About losing a part of himself, as she had lost parts of herself too. He understood.

"Thank you George." He winked then, his way to lighten the mood.

"No biggy." He dismissed. "Now come to the shop when you've got a moment. We'll have a chat, alright?"

"Alright." She conceded, not really sure if she would.

"See you then Mione." He squeezed her shoulder as he passed her, making his way in the apothecary.

Hermione absent-mindedly apparated to Hogsmeade, her thoughts somewhere along a joke shop in Diagon Alley. Again, support had come where she had never expected it. Zabini, Malfoy, Astoria and George.

As she passed the Three Broomsticks, she hurried her pace not to be seen. She only slowed down when she saw Madam Pudifoot's. Reaching Hog's Head, and ready to apologise to Aberforth, she could swear she'd caught a flash of ashen blond hair in the mushy tea shop. She dismissed the idea right away though, Malfoy setting foot there was unthinkable. Ludicrous. She'd just been thinking about him, was all.

* * *

Draco couldn't say that Sherry wasn't pretty. It would've been lying. Her blond hair was slightly wavy and fell around her face nicely. Her eyes were a bit too wide but a nice shiny green colour. Round features softened the portrait.

The only stain in the picture was that even if she seemed averagely smart – which would have done - she talked way too much. She didn't give him time to formulate more than two words for answers.

Not that he complained, he wouldn't have bothered anyway.

Her cleavage, although nice to look at even if a bit too exposed to his taste, couldn't trigger his interest to more than a certain extend, and around eight fifteen, he realised that this was the most boring date he'd ever been to.

Plus, she wore long jiggling earrings that were irritating to look at.

Their plates finally made an appearance and when she excused herself for a minute he sighed. What in Salazar's name was he doing there? He was about to rub his face in his hands when something caught his attention at the window. Something bushy.

"I'm back!" Sherry sat down again, making a whole fuss about righting her chair in front of the table. Draco almost rolled his eyes. As she grabbed her fork for the first time, pushing a strand of her wavy hair behind her ear with her other hand, he noticed a hairy mole on her left temple.

He had to refrain a gag.

Plus, her sodding earrings were very much still there, and as she smiled before starting to babble again, they jiggled. He wanted to rip them off her ears violently even before they took the first bite.

* * *

Hermione had hidden herself in the corner of the dim lit room. Her dinner had ended up as appetising as Polyjuice, and she'd only remembered once facing her chipped plate, why she never ate what Aberforth served. The worn lettuce that poked out of the club sandwich he'd levitated to her table resembled a dying bowtruckle.

She bit in it closing her eyes. It was edible, if insipid. Well, she'd better eat if she didn't want to end up dead drunk after only a drink with Astoria. She took her time doing so, bitterly berating herself for being easily distracted by George. She would have gone somewhere else if she'd thought clearly. She forgot her annoyance at herself though, when the door slammed open and Malfoy walked in.

Fortunately, he didn't look her way as she was too startled to think of lowering in her seat to hide. He strode to the counter and muttered something to Aberforth, who nodded with a knowing gaze he was the only one to know the secret of.

Hermione forgot about the last third of her sandwich. She hadn't hallucinated earlier. Malfoy had been at Madam Pudifoot's. She didn't know if she should laugh or remain frozen. The very thought was … disturbing. At every level.

She watched him swallow his first glass with a hiss, and sign for another, unbuttoning the collar of his expensive tailored robes. He seemed so stiff it was sickening to watch.

Once his lips touched the rim of the glass a second time, his shoulders slumped and he sighed, passing long fingers in his hair.

It didn't take a genius to assemble the pieces of the puzzle. Probably a bad date.

Any woman willingly forcing Draco ferret Malfoy to drink and eat from floral printed tableware, all the while surrounded by scented candles and heart-shaped picture frames, was mad anyway.

Imagining the scene had obviously been a bad idea. Hermione felt like laughing again. She managed to stifle it into a low chuckle. Malfoy's face snapped up to her the instant. Damn.

His eyes grew wide for a millisecond before his slightly bored expression returned. He managed to erase all tension from his face, but not his neck. Hermione wondered if she'd ever seen him this tense. Since he apparently had the ability to hide behind a disdainful expression whenever he saw fit, maybe he'd hidden it well in front of her. Actually she remembered the way he'd held the regulation papers the first time she'd seen him again.

He only confirmed her thoughts when his bored expression morphed into something she was more familiar with.

He watched her up and down loftily, a slow smirk, that didn't reach his eyes, creasing his mouth.

Of course, she was alone, eating in Hog's Head, she probably didn't look any better. She shook her head out of habit, only to find him raising his glass to her, his smirk slightly flattened. She didn't have a drink to give the gesture back though. When she turned her gaze to Aberforth to remedy the situation, a glass of firewhiskey was already coming her way.

It got a smile out of her, one Aberforth gave her back with a tad of warning in his eyes. Apparently he hadn't completely forgiven her about the carpet incident.

She silently raised her glass to Malfoy too, which only had the effect to vanish his smirk completely, and after a brief nod, they both returned to watching their hands.

Hermione didn't dare lift her face from her plate, just in case she'd catch his eyes again. Madam Pudifoot's. Apologies and warnings. Hidden stress.

She realised that she had no idea who Draco Malfoy was. The only expected thing that had happened until then, was the fact that he hadn't joined her. Astoria would though, in less than thirty minutes. Maybe he was waiting for Zabini. At least she'd have a chance to understand then.

This man, sitting a few steps away from her, a man she'd thought she knew, was a complete stranger. The more she thought about him the more she realised the boy she'd known had gone. The boy she'd known would never have taken her side, even against Harry. He'd never have raised his glass to her either. He'd never looked this ... Bad? Since sixth year. Damn. Something was off.

* * *

Draco took another sip at his drink, his thoughts returning to hairy mole Sherry. Blaise had been partly right, dumping her before the end of the meal had been an idiotic move. Although she'd sworn never to talk to either of them again, she'd still made a scene that would surely end up being told everywhere.

Those sodding earrings.

Maybe his encounter with the younger and only Weasley female hadn't helped his impatience. He was always angry anyway, Weaslette or not.

Sighing, he turned his gaze to the lonely woman he'd again defended, at the other end of the room. Having Hermione Granger mock him first was something quite new. Finding her alone in a bar, something he'd kind of expected. Her tired and worn face, and her drinking ability, had been sufficient hints. Although he would never have imagined her anywhere near a glass of firewhiskey before that day prior commemoration, the day she'd said she had a hangover.

Draco realised he didn't know her at all. All he had were assumptions coming from school memories and gossip papers. Bossy know-it-all, always trying to look bright. Those were definitely outdated. It was clear that she didn't care what people thought of her.

Plus, all he'd learnt about her in the last couple of weeks had only wrecked havoc in his mind. It was all too ... horrid. Who could have thought that she'd become as hollow and careless as he was? And she'd caught him gloomily dwelling on his thoughts with a drink. Good thing she wasn't looking any better.

He tried to have a look at her, see if she seemed better than the last couple of times he'd seen her, but the dim light wasn't really helping. Her face was drown to her plate anyway.

Not knowing exactly why, but telling himself that Blaise would be late anyway, he stood. After a step, he snatched the bottle of firewhiskey from the counter-top, attracting a frown from his old school master's brother, and walked to her table. She didn't even see him coming until he sat.

She blinked a few times as if to make sure he was really there. If he hadn't been in desperate need of a way to forget about this whole week, he would have done so himself. What the hell was he doing?


	17. Chapter 17

Saturday, May 17th, 2003.

Part two: Not-so-fortuitous encounter.

"Are you lost?" She grimaced, lifting both her eyebrows to disappear in her gigantic mess of a hair.

"Drunk. Can't be held responsible for my actions." He justified.

"Of course." She snorted, before starting toying with her glass, frowning in disbelief. Well, he wasn't drunk. Whatever excuse he made up, he could just have stayed on his stool, he'd willingly sat with her instead. He had no idea why. Neither why she didn't seem to mind it.

"What's your excuse for not running away?"

"Curiosity." She shrugged blankly.

"What about?" Apparently he wanted to know. She considered him a moment, a light frown topping her eyes, and finally answered:

"Any new business associations I should worry about?"

"Ah, work. I should have guessed." He smirked. Of course, work. Some things never changed. She only shrugged, watching the amber liquid swirl in her glass. "Only one." He eventually obliged.

"Let me guess?" She asked. Draco assumed at her face that she only asked out of politeness. Maybe he should have stayed on his stool, he was bothering her.

"Err ... help yourself?" He gave awkwardly. She smiled faintly. Perhaps she was really curious about it. He realised she was when her frown deepened. Her brown eyes grew wider and she seemed to see right through him suddenly. Then, her gaze swept from left to right, just like if she were reading. She started tapping tiny fingers to the rim of her glass and after a minute, her eyes lost the unseeing glaze they'd gotten and she blurted as if having an epiphany:

"Nott senior!"

"Congratulations, you have a brain." He mocked but didn't get time to see the effects of his smirk for she was quick to snap back:

"Well, if you'd had one yourself, you would have put him in competition with Flint. As I reckon both companies provide potion supplies from private producers. If their investments had reached around a thousand Galleons you could have reopened all the potion shops you closed two years ago."

* * *

His mouth snapped open but nothing came out of it and he closed it again quickly. She'd hit something. Making Nott compete with Flint was a bet she'd have taken. Knowing Malfoy had only hired one though, meant he'd gone for the less risky association. The more trustworthy partnership. He'd consulted the archives and Nott came atop the elder Malfoy's past associates.

"And what tells you it doesn't reach the thousand?" He challenged.

"You have to report investments above three hundred Galleons."

"Err … right I forgot I had a Ministry official in front of me." He grimaced. Hermione shrugged and he debated: "I would have had to check Flint's background though, his associates and producers too."

"Flint is really careful, there was a full file about his company in the archives as well." She countered.

"It was incomplete." He stated, pleating his eyes as if daring her to contradict him.

"Only because the last report is currently in my office." He blinked. She saw it, the way he refrained an irritated frown, she was getting at him.

"If you go there, I could just associate with private producers myself. Nott and Flint are just intermediaries." He kept trying.

"Or you could have let one of their companies staff the shops and run them, and then only bothered to take your share."

"Let someone else run my shops?" He frowned. Hermione had no idea if he was more curious or disdainful about the idea. She tried to make a point:

"They're under controls every three months. It's a safe bet. Plus I conceived the regulations." He fell silent a moment, his mask of indifference returning. He was definitely hiding behind it. Then he finally gave up and muttered under his breath:

"Damn Gryffindor." A little laugh escaped her lips.

"Well, not taking any risks could be considered Slytherin then."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, which lowered after a few seconds. He practically smiled then, a barely there smile. It was still ... unsettling.

"I guess that's one thing that will never change." He said. She couldn't agree more. It was the one thing she knew about him.

"Cheers to that." She nodded. They didn't click their glasses together, but lifted them. Hermione drank what little was left of her glass and put it down on the table with the firm intention to refill it, when he grabbed the bottle just before her, pulled her glass from her hand and poured the firewhiskey himself. He seemed oblivious to the fact that she'd been about to. Like … like if his posh manners were reflexes. He put the bottle down again, and pushed her glass back to her then.

"Thanks." She managed. He nodded, and returned his attention to his own glass. Manners. What a foreign thing to see on a man. Hermione had a sudden flash of Ron, stuffing his face with his mother's pie, talking at the same time and spitting everywhere around his plate. _Wan' som' Mione?_

"What are you doing here alone, Granger?" Hermione snapped back to reality with that. His face had returned to disinterested blankness.

"I'm waiting for Astoria." He nodded knowingly. "You?"

"Err … Waiting for Blaise." The minute hesitation reminded Hermione of where he'd been just before.

"Really?" She asked.

"Yes." He watched her suspiciously and she couldn't repress a small mocking smile.

"So, you weren't at Madam Pudifoot's earlier?" There! No more hiding behind bored or disdainful expressions! His eyes grew so wide that Hermione almost burst out laughing. Then, they pleated under his pointy nose, and he lifted a warning finger to her face:

"Careful Granger."

* * *

She chuckled, utterly unimpressed.

"Sorry but … Madam Pudifoot's?" Her eyes laughed. He could see she was refraining her laughter very hard. He rolled his eyes, then, shrugged. It was funny after all. That's when she laughed. He let himself chuckle in return when he should have stayed impassible. But …

He'd really been at Madam Pudifoot's. With hairy mole Sherry. She'd made a scene. She'd thrown him a heart shaped cookie. With pink frosting.

All that for the woman that was currently laughing at him. She stopped rather quickly though and she went back to the serious frown she'd worn before.

"I'm sorry Malfoy. It's just so … unexpected."

"I didn't expect it myself." He answered without thinking. She sniggered again.

"Why do that to yourself?" If only she knew.

"I have no idea." He lied.

"I take it, it didn't end well?" She presumed, eyeing the bottle of liquor.

"Oh, hell no." He sighed. "Don't buy the next Witch Weekly." She had a little bitter chuckle.

"Err … That paper's a pile of crap."

"Cheers to that." He found himself almost smiling when she did. She lifted her drink again, took a small sip at it, and then said:

"We've done that way too much."

"Agree."

"That too." She pointed out. Was she smirking? Yes, she definitely was. This time he smiled and her smirk morphed into a contained grin. It changed her face.

The conversation deflated a moment but Draco realised he didn't mind the quiet. Unexpectedly, it wasn't awkward. They drank in companionable silence. The fact that it was Hermione Granger in front of him didn't seem relevant, up until Greengrass appeared at the door. She gave them a millisecond of a surprised frown before smiling.

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?" She greeted him.

"Having a drink with Granger apparently." He shrugged, he should probably leave them alone now.

"Oh. All right." She sat down at Granger's right, as if nothing. "What were you talking about?"

* * *

When Blaise arrived at Hog's Head, he had been expecting anything but what was waiting for him. They didn't even notice him enter the pub. Only Aberforth, who sported a bright smirk that could have made Salazar Slytherin himself pale, acknowledged him with a nod.

Draco had his back to him, and was sitting facing Granger, next to Astoria. Both women were giggling and apparently alcohol had already been flooding.

Evidently his plans of coming in with his friend to fortuitously encounter, again, both women in the middle of their girl's night out, had been useless. He had to ask Astoria what had happened, though that would have to wait until breakfast. Because yes, he would definitely stay for breakfast, again.

He took a few steps in, and still they didn't even see him. They were talking vividly about something related to receptionists. Blaise stayed still a moment to choose the better way to interrupt but what he saw made him forget about his bright entrance.

Draco, who was only giving a few words from time to time – words that, at Blaise's greatest surprise, made both women laugh – had a small smile permanently glued to his face. He was _smiling_.

Who would have thought that Granger – and maybe Astoria but she was his – of all people, would be able to lift the lad's mood in the space of what? Forty minutes? Blaise himself wasn't capable of such a miracle in hours.

Frowning, he cleared his throat. Twice.

"Oh Blaise! Join us!" Finally.

"Zabini." Even Granger was smiling at him. Oh, right, she liked him now.

* * *

Zabini grabbed a chair from another table and sat between Hermione and Astoria.

"So, having fun without me?" He smirked. "How are you Granger?" He asked, nonchalantly putting an arm behind each of the women's back.

"Well, now that you're here …" She teased.

"Oh come on! I know you like me Granger." His self-confidence was funnier than impressive. Hermione chuckled, making the three former Slytherins snigger. She tried to catch herself:

"Right Zabini, I only have eyes for you." She droned in a bored tone, rolling her eyes.

Malfoy was definitely drunk. He was smirking his face off at Zabini, and even wiggled his eyebrows knowingly at his friend, making the last scowl.

"Isn't that exactly what you wanted Blaise? If you play it smart, I'm sure you can bring both to bed tonight." Hermione jumped in:

"I'm so flattered! I might even vomit."

Zabini rolled his eyes and Astoria burst out laughing. Her laughter was catching and, as the dark skinned man forgot to sulk to stare at her, Malfoy guffawed. It was the most surprising thing Hermione had ever seen. Zabini startled and watched his best friend with googly eyes. Apparently it wasn't that often that Draco ferret Malfoy laughed. Astoria seemed oblivious to their astonishment and extolled:

"Another night of carpet washing for Aberforth!"

That cut the laughter and the astonishment. Zabini and Malfoy were frowning, both sweeping their gaze from Astoria to Hermione.

"I hope she's joking or you're all banished!" Came Aberforth's answer. Hermione rubbed her face in her hands. Aberforth was looking at her, fiercely menacing. Great.

"What did you do Granger? What did she do?" Asked Zabini. Malfoy's stare was annoying, especially since it was sitting above a gigantic knowing smirk. If he'd guessed though, he didn't say anything. Hermione sighed, as Astoria was apparently too drunk and too stuck in the middle of uncontrollable giggle, to answer. She decided that a bit of auto-derision wouldn't hurt anyone. At least they would laugh.

"I drank myself to death Tuesday night and threw up everywhere in the back room." She confessed. Astonishment crossed Zabini's face as Malfoy seemed to realised he'd been thinking right. He chuckled, his eyes still on her.

"I had to floo her home!" Now, they all laughed. Even Malfoy!

"Oh come on! That's enough! I already apologised!" She chastised, only to see the old wizard's beard wrinkle under a mocking smirk. He'd been trying to embarrass her.

"I know dear."

"What is it you don't know anyway." She mumbled as Aberforth went back to cleaning glasses behind his counter. When she sighed and went to take the bottle of firewhiskey, Malfoy was again quicker, and poured her a drink. He didn't watch the liquid flow from the bottle to the glass. His grey eyes were right on her still, his frown deep.

"What?" He blinked.

"Nothing." He shrugged and pushed her glass back to her.

* * *

Tuesday night she'd said, the day Weasley had come to her office. Draco had been right, the wanker had probably blamed her for all the misery whacking his very small pea of a brain.

She took a sip at her drink, and then downed it whole. Draco was still astonished by the way she drank. It couldn't possibly be a good sign.

Why would he even wonder?

Shrugging inwardly, he tried to focus on the conversation again but found himself incapable of. His mood had shifted again. Why had he even sat with her? Couldn't he mind his own business for once? Hadn't he done enough already?

He bloody well had. And now what? He was spending the evening with both women, when he could have spent it complaining to Blaise, and make him say what was up with him.

He sighed, it was quite hypocritical of him to use his petulance to pretend that he hadn't enjoyed it.

Right, even before Greengrass had come over, he hadn't spent a horrible time. Quite the opposite actually, he had even been given a brilliant idea. Although he would never confess that aloud.

When Greengrass had joined them, as if nothing, thinking of which was odd, he'd managed to not think about anything else but their somehow light conversation.

That woman was definitely right for Blaise, whether the fellow cared or not, they had quite a lot in common. Funny, sneaky, smart, loyal friends. Upon this thought Draco saw them exchanging a tiny whisper and then, Blaise winked. Greengrass was all eyes for him again.

Draco returned his attention to Granger, whose face seemed constricted in thoughts. She snapped out of it as Blaise patted her shoulder and smirked:

"So, Granger, how's work? Big trial coming?"

"Err … yes."

"How's it looking?"

"Difficult." He gave her one of his disbelieving looks he always had when a witch was unmoved by his flirting. She grimaced.

"She'll do just fine." Nodded Greengrass with a grin.

"I don't know. It was months of exhausting work." Granger frowned.

"But you're ready, right?" Continued the other witch.

"I am."

"Then you'll win." Granger chuckled at Greengrass' praise. After a second her mouth lifted slightly:

"It's true that I never lost a case, I hope my luck didn't vanish."

"I doubt it had anything to do with luck Hermione, stop being so modest you're no Hufflepuff. Hard work and a big fat brain is what got you there."

"Err …"

"Don't like compliments Granger? You should take them, she's the only one here who's going to give you some." Draco couldn't help but smirk a bit at Blaise's words.

"I never doubted that Zabini. But you know what? Yes, I'll bloody well win. Because I've been wrecking my brain for months on this case and that bastard is going to win a ticket to Azkaban, just as he deserves."

"Good spirit! Gryffindor Granger back in town!"

"Oh shut it you obnoxious Slytherin."

"Ouch. That stings." Blaise pretended having been shot in the chest and then returned to his half-serious tone: "You said you never lost a case?" She shrugged. "What do you do during those trials? You're not the one chairing them, are you?"

"Depends on the case, but sometimes I am yes."

"So, it's your role to analyse every piece of evidence then?"

"Yes. What's with the questioning Zabini?" She asked with a suspicious stare.

"Just interested. Do …"

"You don't happen to have done something wrong, do you?"

"Nothing that could be traced back to me." He smirked. Draco snorted and Granger eyed him, chuckling.

"Right." She huffed.

"Anyway, so, you review the evidences and?" Blaise insisted.

"And I sort them, check their relevance, have them analysed if necessary. I manage practically all the paperwork and prepare the counter-defence too, order for investigations or interviews, many things actually."

"In other words you have your head buried in Laws all day long."

"Exactly." She confirmed.

That's then that Blaise gave Draco a hint. Unwillingly though. He smirked and winked at Greengrass again. He was drunk already, because he didn't seem to realise that Draco had seen.

Draco wasn't stupid though, and when Greengrass shot him a quick glance, Blaise's whole plan unfolded before his eyes. Granger seemed suspicious too but she couldn't possibly know what this was about. Draco felt anger creep up his chest.

Hadn't he been clear enough? He didn't want to have his contract analysed. Blaise had planned this whole thing with Greengrass, and the owl he'd received the previous day had probably been from her. They'd been supposed to come in there only at nine thirty, when both women would have already been there. And now Blaise was trying to subtly get her to help.


	18. Chapter 18

Saturday, May 17th, 2003.

Part three: Schemed encounter.

Zabini seemed to be done with the questioning. Hermione didn't understand his sudden interest, his self-confidence at having done nothing he could be blamed for, enough to show that this wasn't really about him. The fact that Malfoy seemed to be fuming right then gave her another clue.

She had no idea how to link both informations, surely Malfoy hadn't done anything reprehensible, he had always followed the Law scrupulously, but it seemed to be about him nonetheless.

Hermione wondered if she could ask, or for once, had better put her curiosity aside. Malfoy certainly didn't need any more anger. His small smile had definitely vanished and he was now glaring daggers at his friend. The last seemed oblivious, for now his focus was only on Astoria as they started their usual bickering again.

The only thing that could link her job with Malfoy was his company, since Hermione couldn't fathom him being on trial. Maybe he wanted to sue someone? Why would he be angry with Zabini then?

It made no sense. Zabini had asked details about her job, maybe this was more specific. Did he want her to work on something? For Malfoy? And the last probably didn't want her involved with his business.

She watched the concerned blond intently, trying to figure out what was going on with him, but all she could discern was anger. His glare was … a real death glare. The tension on his face had returned and he looked the more exhausted. His eyes resembled two narrow slits of darkness, the cool grey she knew was gone, hidden behind wrath and shadows of tiredness. His neck was stiff even if his collar was unbuttoned and his jaw so clenched she worried he'd break his teeth. Dentists parents and all that came with it.

Zabini and Astoria were completely oblivious to the sudden tension in the air.

Hermione, who had until then spent a rather good evening, decided not to let things be ruined. Whatever was happening wasn't any of her business, especially since they hadn't asked anything. Plus, she felt like she owed Malfoy and his friend. She tried to ease his tension and make things right. However small the gesture.

She grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey, making Malfoy turn to her. His eyebrows rose for a millisecond as his hand lifted out of reflex. She smirked at him, satisfied that he seemed to have forgotten his anger a second. Then, she quickly snatched his glass from him. He hadn't expected it for sure. His eyes grew wide and then the corner of his mouth creased in disapproval.

Hermione gave him a grin, and refilled his almost empty glass:

"Here, make this one worth it." She advised, using his own words from the first evening they'd spent together. He scowled, but took the glass nonetheless and started drinking. At least he wasn't glaring at Zabini any more. He was more watching her suspiciously from the corner of his eyes.

But the moment of respite didn't last long, for he seemed to go back to his thoughts, and started watching Zabini once more.

Hermione sighed and his face shot up to her.

"What's wrong Malfoy?" She asked quietly.

"Nothing." He lied openly. Hermione saw him focus to show a blank face. She cocked an eyebrow at him, pursuing her lips in a scowl that hopefully told him she wasn't dupe. He stayed stubbornly mute, pretending not to see her.

"Why are you angry?" She asked.

"I have no bloody idea."

* * *

Draco hadn't been able to contain his tone this time. He couldn't even hide his emotions either apparently.

"You're not that good of a liar for a Slytherin." She quietly stated. Draco was fuming at Blaise and, even if he realised it wasn't said meanly, he still snapped back:

"Well maybe if you minded your own bloody business I wouldn't have to lie." Blaise and Greengrass stopped talking as shock showed immediately on Granger's face. He was too angry to regret it.

"Watch your tone Malfoy." She warned. "I'm not the one you're angry with." She was right of course, and it only infuriated him more. Whether he was being irrational or not was of no relevance.

"What's going on?" Blaise was just on time.

"What's going on? _You_ tell me Blaise."

"Wh … I don't get it what's gotten you?"

"Don't play numb with me. And from now on, when I say I don't want something, you mind your own shit. You don't scheme behind my back Blaise. I'm not some random witch you shag."

"What, how … Shit."

"Right, shit." He snarled and stood.

"Come on mate I didn't think you were this serious about it … I just thought you'd realise someone else could …"

"Shut up! It's none of their business! It's none of yours either!" He withdrew an stupid accusing finger that had shot to Blaise as the lad lifted his in return:

"Oh but it is! You've been spending the last four years complaining to me! I just …"

"Well then don't worry, I won't again." Blaise's eyes grew wide and Draco congratulated himself for the effect he had on him. How dare he go behind his back like that?

"What do you …" Before he could finish his sentence, Draco was at the door.

* * *

Malfoy stormed out of the pub, banging the door so fiercely after him that the walls cracked.

"Mate now come on! Don't be like that!" Zabini stood and went after his friend. Hermione had never imagined that Malfoy could be so angry. His face had been so screwed and reddening that she'd stayed frozen.

"What the hell is going on?" She asked to a wincing Astoria as the door to the pub closed behind Zabini. Astoria shut her eyes a moment, then she looked at Hermione, her lids pleating and her lips screwing in something very unlike her.

"I'm sorry Hermione, I … Don't be mad but we meddled."

"I figured that. What did you do?" She was starting to understand Malfoy's anger now. They'd planned the whole encounter. Of course they had.

"We just planned to meet here …"

"Right. Again, I figured as much. What I don't understand is why."

"I'm sorry Hermione … We were having a good time …"

"It doesn't matter. We aren't any more now, are we?" Hermione snapped.

"I know. We didn't mean for it to go this wrong." Hermione sighed, Astoria seemed genuinely sorry. Of course they hadn't planned for it to go wrong. But it still didn't explain why they would want her to meet Malfoy. And especially why they would do it behind her back.

"Why did you want us to meet Astoria?" She asked between clenched teeth.

"I … I can't really explain what this is about … " Astoria stuttered, her face screwed in apologies.

"You owe me as much." She growled.

"Right, you're right but …" She sighed under Hermione's glare. "Malfoy has an issue he's really … touchy about and we thought you might be able to help."

"Oh." To help. They'd schemed to help. Hermione took a gulp at her drink to calm her nerves. They were trying to help Malfoy. "How?"

"It doesn't matter, he doesn't want any help."

"My help you mean." For a reason she couldn't explain, as soon as the words got out of her mouth she knew she wrong.

"Don't be silly it's nothing to do with you. It's just … It's really complicated. He doesn't want anyone to help him and he refuses to speak about it. It's … He's … stubborn. Blaise only wanted to help. It's been years and he's done nothing …"

"What is it?" Hermione would loose her temper if Astoria kept avoiding the question.

"I … I'm sorry I promised … I'm not even supposed to know. It's … really personal for Malfoy."

Hermione didn't really know what to say. How could Zabini possibly think that having her meddling in Draco Malfoy's personal business would be alright with him?

Whatever good terms had occurred lately, whatever help, Malfoy was still Malfoy. He didn't like Hermione.

Except that he'd sat with her. He'd looked at his worst and had sought her company. Zabini didn't seem stupid, in fact she was sure he wasn't. He probably had good reasons to think she could help.

Maybe she should. Well, seeing the way Malfoy had reacted he would probably never want anything to do with any of them any time soon. But still … if she could do something …

* * *

"Salazar would you stop running you bloody stubborn wanker!" Blaise almost bumped into Draco as he abruptly stopped his race to wherever.

"What did you call me?" He hissed.

"A wanker. Because you're acting like one right now." Blaise was playing his last card. A very dangerous bet it was to push all of Draco's buttons. He was risking their friendship but if only Draco would consider listening it would be for the best.

"Fuck off Blaise. Get out of my sight before I hex you."

"You wouldn't. What you're going to do is quit behind a bloody jackass, and listen to me for once in your life! I'm your friend all right? I'm not doing this to piss you off!"

"Good fucking job!" He snarled, throwing his hands in the air.

"Listen to me! Mate, you're miserable. You've been miserable for years and it's getting worse. I can't fucking bear with standing by, doing nothing, while you drink like a fucking addict and spend your time working your eyes out because of that fucking contract!"

"And you think I enjoy it? Working twenty hours a day?"

"You didn't listen you moron. You hate it and it's about time you try and do something about it!"

"THERE IS NOTHING TO FUCKING DO ABOUT IT!"

"YES THERE IS! You just have to ask her!"

"Blaise, listen to me very carefully." Draco drawled. "There is _no_ loophole in that contract. I am stuck with it."

"It's her job. If there's no loophole she might find a Law to counter it. If there's someone able to help you it's her." Blaise kept his ground.

"Granger doesn't need my fucking problems too Blaise. She's got enough on her plate as it is and even so, I don't want her help. If you've got an issue with the way I live my life then fuck off. I couldn't care less."

Blaise huffed: "Liar. If that's about Granger …"

"It has nothing to do with her. It has to do with you, plotting behind my back to do something I clearly told you I didn't want to do." Why had he blinked then? Was he lying?

"Are you sure? I think that's half the problem." Blaise tried.

"What?"

"What is it with her? What …"

"Nothing! It's got nothing to do with her!" Again he'd cut him.

"I don't believe that a second. I know you've heard things. I don't know what it is but mate, have you seen yourself? You need to do something about that contract. Why ever you don't want her help, Granger is all we've got to sort this through. No one will help you and you know that. And I'm certain she'd be willing to do it."

"Are you fucking deaf?! I don't want her help!" Draco barked.

"Then what? You're gonna spend the rest of your life alone, working like a madman in that Salazar forsaken company?"

"Yes."

"Good life ahead of you mate. You know what? I'm sick of this. I can't stand you cowardly accepting your fate. Bury yourself in self-pity how you want. I won't be part of it any more." Blaise concluded, lifting both his hands in surrender. The answer he got, he should have expected:

"Good. Then fuck off my life too."

"See? Self-pity. You're pathetic Draco. There's help right there but right, keep sulking like a bloody kid throwing temper tantrums. Stay in your shit if you like. But from now on you're on your own."

* * *

The chair flew from the corner at the window, to the mahogany desk, crashing in pieces. The desk cracked and fell to its side, scrapping the wooden floor. A ghostly white hand clutched at the mantle atop the chimney, its knuckles white. A raspy breathing echoed.

"Your mother is dissatisfied with the noise." Disdain was audible in the low tone of voice. Draco's left hand swept all the books off the shelf above the chimney. They flew to the floor in a loud noise of wrinkled pages and torn apart covers. The voice didn't speak more.

It was too silent. Draco opened his eyes and turned around to the window. The small cabinet close to it would make noise, a lot of noise. He took the two steps needed and kicked its door open. Then, one by one, he took the bottles out.

One by one, he threw them against the wall. The glass crashed in a million of clinking sounds, the amber liquid spreading all around the room in splashes.

When there was nothing left for him to break, the voice spoke again:

"I'm glad you're finally getting what you deserve." The portrait was empty when he finally looked.

His father was dead. That bastard was dead and still, he was playing with him. Did Draco really deserve all this?

Watching the devastated room he let himself fall against the door. _Self-pity_.

Why would he fight against it anyway? Why would he try when he knew perfectly well that there was nothing to be done?

False hopes? Inevitable deception?

But this was unbearable. Even Blaise couldn't stand it. Blaise had given up. He'd given up on him. How long before Draco gave up too?

* * *

Zabini had come back a mumbling wreck. From what Hermione had understood, they'd argued and he'd insulted Malfoy. Astoria had apologised a dozen times and flooed away with him. Hermione had ended up apparating back to her crappy street, apparently sobered up by anger. She opened her door, not remembering walking up the stairs.

Draco Malfoy. He was all she could think about. His tensed and clenched jaw, his cold darkened eyes, the way he'd stormed out of the pub. Something she couldn't understand was ruining him.

If Blaise Zabini thought she could help then surely his problem was drastic. Surely it was something important.

Slytherins seemed to tend to meddle in others' business all the time but this was different. They couldn't simply ask or speak out. They had to scheme and plot, try and trap. Gryffindors were much simpler to handle. They might not ask for help, but at least they didn't stand by and do nothing when facing an issue.

Except when Draco Malfoy was concerned apparently. What was she supposed to do anyway? If even his best friend couldn't help him, then who was she to try?

Malfoy didn't want help. Or so they said. It had seemed to Hermione that what had angered him the most, was that his friend had gone against his wishes. Behind his back. Hermione understood all to well the feeling. Betrayal. It felt like betrayal, just as when she'd heard Judith's conversation. Just like what she'd felt in her chest when she'd realised Astoria and Zabini had plotted behind her back too.

Apparently she had more in common with Draco Malfoy than she'd thought. Interfering friends seemed to be one of those things. Was Astoria even her friend? She'd thought so. Now she couldn't be sure. Maybe it was some sort of twisted Slytherin way to see friendship.

At the thought, a tapping noise made its way to her ears from the kitchen window.

 _Hermione,_

 _I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for things to go this way. I know I ruined our second night out and I promise I won't do something like that again. Don't be mad please._

 _I don't know what we were thinking. Blaise is a wreck, he's sorry too._

 _It was a very bad idea to plot behind your back. We sent a letter to Draco too, maybe he'll come around. If he does, we leave it up to him to come to you if he changes his mind._

 _No more meddling in others' personal stuff._

 _I'm sorry, I hope you still want to be friends because I do._

 _Astoria._

Apologies. At least they recognised being wrong. Hermione couldn't stay mad at her. Nor at Zabini for that matter. They'd only tried to help. They'd just promised not to do it again.

Malfoy needed help.

Maybe if she offered he'd … No. Surely it would only make things worse and the seemingly civility between them would be gone.

But still … He'd helped her. With her staff, with Harry, with that sodding interview. If she could do something for him in return, why wouldn't she? Except the only way she could think of to help was to trick the stubborn man into asking or at least reveal what this was about, and she wasn't going to do that.

Maybe if she went for it the Gryffindor way, he'd consider it. If he refused then she would have done all she could.

* * *

Tap. Tap. Tap. Blaise. Or bloody Sherry. Who else could it be?

 _Draco,_

 _Please forgive us. We only meant to help. Please forgive Blaise, you're all he's got._

 _Hermione is pissed off too, but we didn't tell her. She was willing to help without knowing though. We leave up to you to decide whatever you want to do. We won't interfere again. We promise not to meddle in your life any more. It's only your business, you are right._

 _I'm so sorry things turned out this way. I never meant for you to argue with Blaise. He'll be at my place if you want to reach him._

 _Please come around._

 _Astoria._

He'd cut his hand with shards of glass. The paper was stained with red. Draco crumpled the letter between his wounded fingers and threw it to the middle of the mess. He then got up, and went straight to bed, leaving the office to the elves, and staining the sheets with blood.


	19. Chapter 19

Wednesday, May 21st, 2003.

Hermione stormed out of the courtroom angrily. How dare them twist her words? The Foster defence was definitely sly. If they wanted to play this game then so be it. They would never see it coming. She was going to change her strategy. Kingsley had made it clear, they couldn't afford to loose this case. And they wouldn't, end of the story.

Striding out of the lift she almost knocked Tracey off her path.

"Err … Sorry Tracey."

"It's alright." The witch answered, wincing and rubbing her elbow. Then, her permanent frown deepened. "Gone wrong?" She asked.

"Those bastards twisted my words."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I need to change strategy. Come with me, I could use your opinion."

"Now? You're not going to lunch with Astoria?"

"Damn, I forgot. I don't have time. You were on your way down?"

"I was but I can just grab a sandwich."

"Would you mind telling her on your way?"

"No, not at all." She answered. "Be right there." And she jumped in the lift right away. Hermione thanked Merlin for Tracey Davis and went to lock herself in her office. She had a tremendous amount of work to do before the next day.

* * *

Blaise had tried calling Draco about a hundred times since Saturday night, to no avail. The wizard had shut his floo network. Astoria's letter had reached him, but Blaise's had been blocked afterwards and he hadn't answered. The only solution that he had left was to try and see him at his office.

Draco hadn't come around this time.

Blaise couldn't help the stony feeling at the pit of his stomach. It was the worst argument they'd ever had and he'd been awful to him.

Draco was all he had. He couldn't loose him.

He reached Malfoy inc.'s offices about a half hour later than he'd planned. One o'clock at his watch. Draco's lunch break was over, Blaise only hoped that he didn't have a meeting.

Reaching the second floor after passing reception, he stopped at Draco's secretary desk, and couldn't help but wrinkle his nose in distaste when he saw how ugly the woman was.

The pale mono-brow woman asked him who he was. She frowned at his name and grabbed a paper.

"Sorry Mr Zabini but Mr Malfoy won't be able to see you."

"I can wait."

"He said not to bother."

"What's that paper?"

"The list of person he doesn't want to see. You're at the top." She droned.

"DRACO!"

"Please calm down or I'll have to call security."

"COME ON YOU BASTARD ANSWER ME!"

"Security!"

Blaise was thrown to the street after being body-binded. They only released the spell once he was sitting, arse against the dirty pavement. To top the humiliation with, he'd made his case worse. He'd insulted Draco again.

What the hell had they done? Even Astoria hadn't been lucky with Granger. She'd told Blaise that she'd invited the witch to lunch as they always did, but that Granger had declined the two previous days. Astoria had rationalised, saying that she was in trial, but Blaise started to think that it wasn't a coincidence. Surely he hadn't realised how bad they'd both taken things and thinking of it, even if they'd seemed to make an effort both nights they'd spent together, it was true to say that they didn't hold the other in their heart. Having their friends plot for them to meet had been a terribly bad move.

Adding to that, knowing Draco and Granger, Blaise realised that they had a lot more in common than he'd thought. They were both stubborn beyond reason and they were certainly not about to forget and forgive that easily. Wrong, they were going to forget yes, but about him and Astoria.

* * *

Draco swallowed what was left of his fourth glass of firewhiskey. Blaise was right. He was pathetic. But he wasn't a bastard! Neither a wanker!

Whatever reason had pushed his best friend to plot behind his back, and even if he was probably right, Draco was nowhere near ready to forgive his words.

He thanked himself for hiring an ugly secretary. At least she was doing her job right.

After three days of deep thinking, and deep drinking – although only at the office since his home was now empty of alcohol thanks to his _temper tantrums_ – he'd realised that Blaise making him meet Granger wasn't so big a deal. He'd gone to join her on his own, hadn't he? They'd only tried to make him see that she was more qualified to check his contract than he.

She was of course, but it was out of the subject.

Draco had read in the papers that the Foster trial had started Monday, Granger had enough work as it was. Plus, she didn't need his problems atop hers. And he would never, ever, ask her for a favour.

However, following her advice to earn more, thanks to the reopening of potion shops, was still possible. Fortunately the signature with Nott had only been planned for this week, so Draco had written to Flint and associates the previous day.

The answer came sometime after Blaise's little visit, around three o'clock. Nott might not take well the change in plans, but Flint had agreed. All Draco had to do now, was to wait.

If they offered a high enough investment, Draco would be able to reopen the shops. He'd have to report it, and thus see Granger, but it would keep him so busy for the next year, and maybe help him forget his ordeal, that it felt worth it.

* * *

"No offence Miss Granger but I think you might need a break."

"Offence taken. I'm perfectly …"

"No you're not. We're running in circles. Maybe you'd use someone else's opinion?"

"Right. You're right." Hermione sighed, giving up on the torn parchment she was holding. She tried to pass her hand through her hair irritably but realised she couldn't. She needed a fresh opinion as well as a shampoo.

"Maybe Astoria would …" She started.

"I'll fetch her." Tracey ran out the office as if scared. Hermione was a mess. Her hair was a mess. Although there was nothing new there. Still, it was worse than usual.

She rummaged through the first drawer of her desk in search of a hair-band. She threw in the bin three outdated snack bars, and a crumpled invitation for commemoration night. Roughly pulling her nest up, she managed to tie it in a really big and messy bun atop her head. Sighing, she tried to put some sort of order through her notes.

When the mess was arranged in three neat piles, all that was left on the desk was the draft of a letter, crossed everywhere and crumpled. The letter had been forgotten Monday morning.

Sunday she'd tried to write something to Malfoy. She'd failed miserably and it had then slipped her mind. Offering help for something she knew nothing about, to someone who didn't want help, had revealed a really difficult task to complete.

Now that she'd seen it, it wouldn't get off her mind though. Hermione hadn't seen Astoria since Saturday night, so she didn't know if Malfoy had forgiven Zabini. She was still undecided. She had no idea what to do. Maybe Astoria could clear that point too.

"Merlin! You really were busy, weren't you?" Hermione startled out of her thoughts as Astoria came to sit facing her, followed by a frowning Tracey.

"Of course I was, why?"

"I … Err I thought you were still mad at me."

"Wh … Really? No." Astoria grinned in response and then, went for work:

"I take it the trial isn't running as planned?"

"Not an ounce, I need your opinion." Astoria nodded vividly, a wide and relieved grin still on her face as she grabbed the first document from the pile on the left. Malfoy's situation would have to wait.

* * *

After spending his afternoon trying to distract himself watching one of his secretary's cleavage, Blaise decided that first, he didn't give a damn about her breasts, he had better around these days, and second, he couldn't stand being alone when he had probably lost his best friend over some stupid, stupid move.

Astoria had sent an owl, saying she'd be late and that if he wanted he could wait for her at her place. Blaise wasn't the patient type though. So, around six o'clock, he went to the Ministry.

It took a half hour to pass through the dreadful post-war security. Why in hell didn't they change that? The war had been over for years! What did they fear? Sodding Potter.

Grumbling angrily under his breath he took the lift. The damn thing stopped about ten times before reaching Improper use of Magic. AND to top it all, Astoria was at Law Enforcement according to her boss. McMillan was as ugly as he'd been in school. As irritatingly pompous too.

Blaise took the lift again, not before making sure to drop a little condescending comment to the head of Astoria's department. This time the dreadful box stopped at the Auror's office.

Of course, just his luck.

Potter was at a door in a wide corridor facing the lift. He saw him right away and Blaise smirked his face off, adding a bit of eyebrow wiggling and a hand wave just to mess with him, as a tall blond guy joined him inside.

Blaise couldn't help but chuckle before stepping out of the horribly shaky box, Potter's face had somehow brightened his mood.

He reached an empty desk. Tracey Davis. Right, he'd forgotten about that.

The bint wasn't there though. Passing her desk he shot a glance at the corridor. He could hear muffled heated chatter somewhere.

Gluing his ear to every door, he concluded that the floor was entirely empty, except for Granger's office. A muffliato had been shot on the door though, and he had to pluck his pinky fingers in his ears to get rid of the buzzing. He was still able to hear voices but it was impossible to decipher what was said or who was speaking.

McMillan had seemed certain that Astoria was there though. So, suddenly fidgety for a reason he couldn't fathom, Blaise knocked.

* * *

"Be really precise when you read this. I'm pretty sure they could twist that statement too." Astoria added.

"Right, I'll just write down exactly what to say and stick to that. Tracey I'll have to come in early, do you mind coming too? I might need your help."

"No problem. What time?"

"Six o'clock? Just go home early tomorrow to make it up alright?"

"Yes …" A muffled knock interrupted her.

"Damn." Hermione growled. "Who is it? You told Ernie you were in the archives right?"

"I did." Astoria nodded. "He said he wouldn't need me."

"Err." Hermione stood to open the door, just enough that only her face could be seen. Zabini?

"You're not supposed to go past the secretary desk Zabini." She scowled, irritated with the interruption. He seemed really uncomfortable all of a sudden. It was a grimace she'd never expected to see on him.

"I know. I was just looking for Stori, her boss told me she was there."

"She's not. I'll send a note, she'll meet you in the atrium if you'd like."

"Right. Alright. Thank you Granger." He nodded, and went to go. Hermione felt Astoria squeeze her shoulder then, and a murmur reached her ear:

"He thinks you're still mad at him." Hermione sighed, and went for him, closing the door after her. "Zabini wait!" He turned around right away, frowning, and he spoke before she got a chance to:

"Look Granger, I'm sorry for Saturday. I … Draco won't talk to me …" His jaw clenched then, Astoria was right, he was a wreck. Hermione had never ever imagined that Blaise Zabini could loose his usual self-confidence this way. Malfoy had to be really important to him.

"He'll come around eventually. If I'm not mad at you, surely he won't stay mad for long."

"You're not mad at me?" He asked with clear disbelief.

"No." Hermione shrugged. "You were trying to help I guess. You got it all wrong obviously but …"

"Did you tell Stori?"

"Wh … yes, why?"

"She was really upset that you didn't join her for lunch."

"Oh, don't worry, I told her. I was really busy with the trial."

"Good. Good. She likes you a lot you know?" He started and then caught himself: "I obviously don't understand why but …"

"Very funny Zabini." He chuckled and his smirk was back.

" You Gryffindors have no humour." He taunted, shaking his head.

"And you Slytherins are annoying."

"Yeah but you can't do without us." He grinned. Hermione couldn't believe the change in his face. All that after she'd told him she wasn't mad at him.

"Who likes who now, Zabini?" She mocked and his smirk dropped instantly. "Now, go, I'll send Astoria." He scowled but when he went for the lift, Hermione saw him smile. Apparently Blaise Zabini liked her. It was as simple as that. It cleared her thoughts too, now she didn't need to wonder why he'd helped her, or why he'd taken her side against Harry and Ron.

It was still the weirdest thing ever, but somehow it made sense. Plus, now she knew how to make it up to him, and what to write in her letter.

* * *

Draco had accioed all his files and stationery – the little that wasn't broken – to his bedroom. He hadn't set foot in his father's office since Saturday. His bedroom was a gigantic mess now, but at least he would be able to pass out in his bed, instead than on the tiny craned desk he'd found in a guest room.

He hadn't heard from neither Flint nor Nott, so all he'd been doing was the usual boring paperwork. His eyes hurt. Rubbing them with his sleeve, he sighed heavily. He needed a break. Unfortunately, Blaise wasn't an option.

Draco jumped, making his quill rip on the parchment he was holding. An owl was at his window. He'd blocked Sherry's and Blaise's!

How had they managed to … Oh, Greengrass. He'd forgotten Greengrass. Untying the letter from the rapacious, he realised it was a Ministry owl. He frowned, they never wrote there, he'd specifically given them his office address.

 _Malfoy,_

 _Astoria gave me your address, not after ten minutes of arguing that you might not appreciate though. Sorry if it's a burden. I've seen them both today, and I think you might want (or if you're still pissed off, enjoy) to know that Zabini is a wreck. I'd never imagined he could stop being infuriating and self-praising to almost cry in front of me. I don't know the extent of your friendship, but I could tell that he was genuinely sorry. Hear him out? Or yell at him, hex him, kick him, and then forgive him?_

 _They were definitely both out of line, and I have no idea what Saturday was about, but perhaps knowing this will encourage you to put an end to his ordeal. Or maybe I just made it worse and you're going to kill him. Burn that letter if you do, it won't do to have the Head of Law Enforcement arrested for abetting murder._

 _Also, I figured that, even if they thought differently, whatever it was about Saturday is none of my business. It seemed nonetheless that they thought I could help with something. I got that you don't want my help, I also understand that asking me for anything is something you'd never consider (trust me I share the feeling)._

 _But, (of course there's a but) I feel like I owe you somehow (don't use that to blackmail me) since you were kind (?) enough to keep your mouth shut for me. So, I just wanted to let you know that if you ever were to change your mind, you know where to find me. I don't promise I'll be able to help of course, but I'm willing to try._

 _Of course, I won't take it wrong if you refuse, and I hope that I didn't piss you off any further. Don't mind the jokes, apparently I don't possess any sense of humour._

 _H. Granger._

Why in hell had he chuckled? Twice! She was out of line too with that sodding letter! Right? Well, she'd only tried to help. Granger was a Gryffindor. At least she hadn't gone behind his back.

Blaise deserved to be a wreck. He'd called him a coward! A wanker! And a bastard!

Draco read the letter once more. He then slapped his forehead as he chuckled once more.

But maybe he should follow this advice too, kicking Blaise's arse was definitely something he felt like doing.

Something was odd though, Granger showed concern for the moron in her letter. Apparently Blaise had been right, she liked him too. Because yes, Blaise couldn't deny that he liked Granger. Not in the same way he liked Greengrass of course, but still. It had started with some unexpected and misplaced concern, and had ended up with willingly joining her for drinks. What was it that he saw in her? A potential friend?

Draco had to blink a few times. He couldn't believe where his thoughts were heading. Was Blaise, as in Blaise Zabini his (maybe) ex-best friend, former Slytherin, friends with Granger? Granger as in brightest book-worm of their age, golden girl … Err … right. That Granger was gone, well, nearly.

Plus, he'd done the very same thing himself, hadn't he? He'd willingly sat with her. Talked to her. He'd even enjoyed … Sweet Salazar no. No, no, no.

Still, would she allow herself to write to him like that if they hadn't gotten along?

This was just confusing.

Draco sighed, and decided to postpone the thinking to the next morning. Or maybe never.


	20. Chapter 20

Thursday, May 22nd, 2003.

Blaise woke up, feeling light pressure on his chest. Something soft was tickling his chin. Screwing his face to get rid of the thing, he tried to shuffle in the bed, only to find out he couldn't.

His eyes fluttered open, and closed right away, assaulted by the sharp light coming from the window. It took him another minute to finally open them fully. Astoria was snuggled against his chest, her face resting in the crook of his shoulder. Her straight raven hair pooled around her alabaster skin. She was gorgeous, even asleep. He watched a moment as her chest rose and fell slowly against him, and relished the feeling of her breath on his chest.

It was a sight he would definitely not grow tired of, any time soon.

Wait. He'd never woken up like this. In fact, every time he'd woken at her place on a working day, she'd already been gone. Damn! What time was it?!

"Stori. Stori." She grumbled incoherently, her womanly manners completely asleep. "Stori, you're late." She jolted right up in the bed, panting, and stormed out of it, not even bothering to untangle herself from the sheets.

"Dear Lord! Sweet _fucking_ Merlin!" She cried hysterically, as he was left naked, on the sheetless bed. He couldn't help but chuckle. Three minutes later, and probably a beauty charm too, she was out of the bathroom, her hair carelessly stacked in a high ponytail he'd never imagined she could sport, still stumbling on her feet with the sheet.

This time he burst out laughing which only got him to receive … a shoe? Right in the face in retaliation.

"Damn woman!"

"Shit, I need that bloody shoe!" She cried.

"I _love_ it when you're like that." The words had blurted themselves out of his mouth but he was glad. Rage twisted her mouth, and she shot him a threatening glare he was rather fond of. She then jumped on the bed, grabbed her shoe, hit him on the shoulder and went to go. But she stopped at the door, turned around frowning, and came back to barely peck his mouth very quickly.

She was out the door, that banged loudly after her, before he could process the look on her face.

Sweet Salazar, _that_ woman.

* * *

Draco had spent, for the first time in many years, an approximately good resting night of sleep. Which just basically meant that he hadn't fainted nor blacked out, out of exhaustion or drunkenness. He'd simply gone to bed.

Maybe trashing his father's entire office into shreds hadn't been so bad of an idea. It had released his nerves for sure, however short the respite had lasted. It had mostly, and momentarily only – the elves had probably cleaned it up by then, as well as refilled the cupboards – incapacitated him to drink his mind to oblivion at night.

His thoughts were clearer when he unfolded the letter his new assistant had handed him first thing. Which also meant that the reality he was in was the more wide open before his eyes. But, upon reading Nott's agreement to a meeting with Flint and himself, the black open space of dread before him seemed to cloud. He started wondering about those shops, and who would run them. The investment would certainly determine that, but maybe …

He couldn't possibly run a dozen of potion shops atop the work he had there, that was a certainty. But maybe, just maybe, one would be manageable.

Potions had always been his favourite class back in Hogwarts, whether the teacher had favoured him or not, and the prospect of being able to bury himself in a cauldron during the week-ends was pleasant enough that it might help his sour mood.

How much more work would it be anyway? Instead of six days a week, it would be seven? Good. No more spare time to dwell on gloomy shit.

Right, he had found some sort of escape. Something that was going to keep his mind busy. After the negotiating part of course. And the dreadful meetings that would come with it.

After proposing a date for the meeting that might ensure his next escaping activity, he scratched his head, thinking.

It had been Granger's idea. She'd written. He'd have to see her anyway whenever he would have to report the investment, plus, leaving her attempt at fixing things between him and Blaise unanswered felt somehow rather rude. She'd even offered her help, stating that she felt like she owed him.

Draco didn't hold any favour on her though. If nothing he was the redeemable one. Years of bullying and all. Maybe he should answer. At least to politely decline both her offers and …

Right, he'd just do that.

* * *

Hermione was on her way to the department of Mysteries, when the lift stopped at Improper use of Magic. Astoria jumped in the magical box, panting. Her hair was a total mess. Well, nowhere near the mess Hermione pulled on a daily basis, but still, for a women of her stature it was unbelievably weird.

"What happened to you?" Hermione asked. The pretty witch winced:

"Err … slept on." Hermione felt her eyes grow so wide that she was certain they could pop out of their sockets. She was at a complete loss of words. Astoria scowled and then sighed.

"Forgot to set my wand." She mumbled, avoiding Hermione's eyes. Maybe a tall dark-skinned wizard had something to do with that.

"Oh. I see."

"Err … It's …"

"None of my business Astoria. What you do on your spare time, or _who_ you do, is none of my business." Hermione startled again as a light blush crept up her entire face. What had she said? Wasn't it kind of official between them?

"Err … Sorry anyway, I had planned on being early to help you."

"Don't worry, Tracey was there and with what you told me yesterday I'm sure I'll do just fine."

"Good then." She nodded as the lift landed at Mysteries. Hermione started out, feeling a bit teasy, or maybe so nervous that she needed the banter, gave with a smirk:

"You might want to redo your hair though. It looks like you did him in the broom closet about three minutes ago." She burst out laughing at the terribly shocked face Astoria pulled. It was so out of character.

"Don't laugh at my face! I had enough with Blaise already!" She scowled then, in a more likely Astoria way, and Hermione saw her pull at her hair-band before the doors closed on her.

* * *

Blaise apparated directly to Diagon Alley for the first time in months. Nobody was waiting for him, sulking on a stool this time. His light mood of the morning had definitely passed.

It only aggravated after he walked out of the apothecary, arms full with an order he'd forgotten to shrink, and passed the Weasley bullshit shop.

The half man was standing outside his way too colourful windows, angrily pulling at a smoking stick. The man was smoking, tapping his foot impatiently, and mumbling under his breath.

When he spotted Blaise, his tapping stopped instantly, and he frowned.

Blaise had only caught sight of him at commemoration events since the war, and now that he thought of it, always at the beginning. The man had apparently never stayed long after the speeches.

Recognition finally hit his eyes after a moment of inspecting Blaise's face, and he nodded politely, before tossing his cigarette bit on the ground and barging in his shop without even crashing it.

The nasty thing kept smoking and as he saw the smoke go up in the air in loops, Blaise realised he'd stopped.

He started again to the Leaky Cauldron, fuming at himself. He had been so surprised with the man that he hadn't even thought of shooting him something nasty. Well, except for the fact that he was part of the obnoxious red tribe, he had never done anything to Blaise but entertain him widely during their horrid fifth year, and maybe piss him off a tad during Quidditch games (nothing Blaise hadn't been to handle and give back though). How strange that he had acknowledged him. _Politely._

* * *

Hermione sighed tiredly as the lift landed at her floor. She'd spent the day in that dreadful courtroom, skipping lunch, and articulating every word very carefully and after thought. She was drenched. To the core.

Tracey was gone. There was no notes on her desk. Hermione went to hers, to put down the files she was tightly clenching between her arms, and grab the ones she'd need for the next day, so she could review them at home.

She almost missed the note that was pinned to her chair.

 _Hermione, I'll be there early tomorrow morning to help. I reviewed your next files, hope you don't mind. Astoria._

Of course she didn't mind. It was actually very illegally thoughtful. Maybe she should consider trying to make it legal. Astoria seemed to enjoy enough working with her, and Hermione would definitely use the help.

Still wondering if it would be a good idea, Hermione apparated from the atrium to her crappy street. She walked from the dead end she'd apparated in, to the entrance of her muggle building. She could hear noise inside her flat from the landing. Suddenly alert, she drew her wand out of reflex and after a second of hesitation, banged the door open, standing upright and eyes darting everywhere.

The mess stopped alarming her as she caught the culprit of her trashed useless vase. The owl finally spotted her and stopped flying around, knocking things down, to land angrily on her shoulder and bite her ear impatiently. She snatched the letter from its paw and it flew right away by the kitchen window she'd apparently left open the previous night.

Careless. The state of fright she'd been in for a few seconds had revived way too many war reflexes. After casting a strong locking spell to her window, and adding a few extra wards to her door, she finally slumped on her couch.

The envelope she held was of the finest paper. On its front, her name was written in delicate looped letters that were slightly familiar. At the back sat the Malfoy crest in silver wax. She frowned. The last time Malfoy had written to her at the Ministry, the paper had been fine but the crest absent. He'd carelessly written a long letter, in the hopes of duping her into doing his job.  
Then, it seemed like he'd taken a bit more care in his correspondence.

Hermione was so eager to read it, that she tore the fine paper in shreds. No witness anyway.

 _Granger,_

 _I write with a few purposes in mind, as often._

 _First, to decline both your offers. As you clearly understood, I do not need any help, however kind (?) of you to offer. I am also in no state of mind to forgive Blaise. Although I was quite surprised to see your concern for my irritatingly prying best friend. (Has he finally worked his charm on you?) However I have to admit that I found your suggestion to kick him rather appealing, I will definitely think about it. I won't take the risk to kill him and have you sent to Azkaban though, you seem rather useful to the community._

 _Second, I wished to inform you that I followed your advice. I received, not later than today, an agreeing letter from Nott, and have met with Flint in my offices earlier in the week. I hope I will have to come to your offices to report a future extravagant investment sooner rather than later._

 _Also, I decided to run one of the shops. I have yet to decide which one, but found the prospect of taking care of a potion business to be a pleasant idea, which had never crossed my mind before your mentioned reopening them. I will, of course, report properly to the Ministry when the time comes._

 _I have one last thing to say, and hope you will burn this letter so as no proof remains. I wish to thank you for the advice, however condescendingly it was delivered and however it hurts my fingers to put those words on paper._

 _Until another seemingly fortuitous encounter,_

 _Regards,_

 _D Malfoy._

 _P.S: Please do not feel anyhow beholden of me, you owe me nothing._

It took her a moment to finally have a reaction. After utter stupor to receive such a letter, to bright annoyance at his few comments – although she realised quite quickly that they were only playful – and back to stupefaction, she hadn't managed to form a single coherent thought.

She'd known of course, that he'd refused her help, even if a slight hope that his stubbornness wasn't so bad had still remained in a dark corner of her brain, and had somehow also expected him not to forgive his friend that easily.

He'd still said he'd consider kicking him which, disturbingly, was probably a sign that he was on his way to forgiveness.

He'd followed her advice. She had no idea why but it pinched a side of her stomach. In another life she'd been a good advice giver.

All she'd lived through recently had made her forget slowly who she'd once been, and the familiarity to have someone follow her ideas brought back a long forgotten and shy self-confidence.

Although she knew perfectly well that she was not the same person she'd been years before, she seemed to still have a bit of her old self in there.

And Malfoy had brought it up. Here was something she couldn't rationally explain. It was like meeting with an old ghost from the past. It brought back a lot of things, but differently. They were different people. But they weren't. It was confusing.

She re read the letter, and this time almost chuckled at his banter. The old Malfoy, but different.

She frowned at his post-scriptum, she was the one to decide of that. Whether or not he thought she owed him, she did. End of the story.

She put the letter down on her smashed glass covered coffee table, and tried to decide whether she should answer or not. What would she say?

She shook her head, she had other things to do. Clean her flat was one of those things. Work her arse off, another.


	21. Chapter 21

Friday, May 23rd, 2003.

Part one: Missed encounters.

Hermione was at the ministry at five forty five that morning. It was the last day of trial. It would start at nine, and end whenever. Who knew. Maybe Sunday.

Growling, she scratched her head with great difficulty through her hair, and yawned loudly in the empty lift. The Ministry was deserted this early and she could only be grateful for it. So far, she hadn't encountered anyone potentially irritating that week. It was almost as if they avoided her.

It would certainly have been the drop anyway, and seeing the state of nerves that Kingsley was in, she thanked Merlin she hadn't been pushed to make another scene.

Speaking of their Prime Minister, he was waiting for her in her office, or more perusing through her notes and sitting in her chair, when she opened the door.

He didn't lift his gaze from the paper until he was done reading the page. Hermione had long sat in the visitor's chair when he finally did.

"Who's helping?" He asked. She knew him far too well to be fooled by his slightly curious expression. Kingsley had fought a war at her side, he was a master in disguise. Their Prime Minister. What she'd done with Astoria broke a Law of secrecy and he certainly wasn't dupe as to think her assistant/receptionist had annotated all her work.

"Tracey." She tried and the little twitch at his mouth forced her to sigh and confess: "Astoria."

She was inwardly preparing for a lecture, for his usual low voice that never yelled but sent chills down one's spine and which warning was deadly, to speak her mistakes. Instead, he nodded and resumed reading. Hermione didn't dare say a thing. After a minute of nervously wringing her fingers, she retrieved the notes she'd brought home the previous night, and started reading too. She still found bits to correct. Bits to underline for Astoria. Her quill scratching the paper was the only noise that resounded until Tracey knocked at six thirty.

"Come in." The frowning witch didn't flinch neither looked surprised to see their Prime Minister there. She didn't comment and just politely nodded in his direction. Maybe she felt the heavy tension in the room. Slytherin frowning thing.

"I'm at my desk if you need me. There's the usual paperwork waiting from yesterday, shall I take care of it and leave it for you to sign?" Thank Merlin for Tracey Davis.

"Yes please. On your desk Tracey."

"Noted." And she was out, clicking the door quietly after her. Kingsley had lifted his face from the page.

"You let her sort your paperwork?"

"She's brilliant." Hermione justified.

"You let someone from another department read your notes." He stated. The air felt still. If he decided to follow the Law, the entire trial could be compromised. She could be revoked. But somehow, she knew he wouldn't. When she didn't answer, he finally warned her with a single glance. She didn't speak. She knew better than to justify. It was useless.

"I'll have a position created. I think communication assistant would be a rather fitting job for Astoria Greengrass. If she refuses, burn these."

He then stood and only once he was at the door, he caught her eyes above his shoulder:

"I knew you'd get back on your feet eventually. I was starting to grow impatient."

And he was out, leaving Hermione utterly baffled. She was. He was right. How ironic that breaking a Law would make her realise that.

Tracey only made an appearance when Hermione was about to head to court.

"Trouble in paradise?" She grimaced. It triggered a little chuckle from Hermione.

"Not really."

"Astoria sent a note."

 _Couldn't come this morning! McMillan is a bit suspicious and kept me within arms reach since I arrived. I've just been allowed to go pee. Just stick to precision and it'll be alright. Keep me posted. Astoria._

Hermione scribbled an answer very quickly:

 _Bullocks. Need to speak to you as soon as possible. I'll send a note once I'm out the courtroom._

* * *

Draco stood from his chair, and stretched. Damn this paperwork. He needed a break. Except it was only ten o'clock, and he didn't have anyone to call and disturb in the middle of foreplay to join him. He still needed a break. Almost a whole week without seeing Blaise and he realised only then how much he needed the single person that didn't despise him in his life.

He wouldn't be able to hold that grudge much longer. BUT the lad had better have prepared a very detailed set of apologies. And his arse for some serious kicking.

Had he just chuckled alone? Over something Hermione sodding Granger had suggested? Damn he so needed that break.

He got out of his office, passed the ugly specimen at the entrance of the floor and, without a word, went down in the street.

The air was warm. Too warm for the black button up shirt he'd transfigured his light tailor robes into. Muggles always gave odd looks when he forgot the small flick of his wand, and he was pretty sure it broke a Law. He'd ask Granger sometime.

Right. Now, he was out of his mind. Maybe his system had been so used to a certain dose of alcohol that now, deprived of more than half of it, it was failing him. He should remedy the situation.

Tom was as bald as usual, his bar as dirty as ever, and the smell of sweat even more persistent than the rest of the year. Spring didn't do good to the establishment.

Draco sat slowly on his usual stool anyway, at the far end of the counter-top. Tom watched him a second, and then poured him a glass of firewhiskey, out of habit probably. The man lazily pushed it across the counter to him, and returned his wrinkled scalp to his pretend washing of something.

Draco took a sip at his drink. Alone. _Pathetic_. Right, he felt pathetic. Pushing the glass away, he decided that drinking without company wasn't relaxing in any way. If nothing it even made things worse. He stood, threw a coin at Tom, went to the back of the room and to the rear courtyard.

He tapped his wand on the brick wall, three times.

It had been years since Draco had come there without a purpose. The crooked streets were full of people. It would get even more crowded once lunch break would come. He transfigured his robes back, took a deep breath, and, trying not to regret it right away, took a step in.

* * *

Blaise had been practically thrown out of bed by a very early Astoria Greengrass that morning. Unable to go back to sleep, he'd gone out. He wandered around in Diagon alley for a good hour before deciding that it was about time he made another appearance at work. Work. He almost laughed.

He was about to head back to the Leaky Cauldron when something rather nasty caught his attention. A woman, her face swollen to the size of a small balloon, stormed out of a tea shop, screaming her lungs out. Apparently she'd been bitten by something.

Curiosity was a bad, bad sin. It would be the end of him.

He took a step closer, realised her face and hands were turning the ugliest shade of green he'd ever seen, while small purulent boils started popping everywhere on what was visible of her skin.

He gagged, just as a second woman, with an orange hat that strangely looked very small atop her gigantic head, stormed out the same shop, screaming too.  
Both atrocities started pointing their fingers at every wandering passer-by that had gathered in a little crowd around them, screaming like banshees still. Blaise remained frozen to the spot and there was his mistake. A loud crack resounded and they were all suddenly surrounded by Ministry officials and Mediwizards and witches, that started fussing around.

Blaise startled and quickly made to run away, only to be pocked in the ribs by a tight-faced Ministry official, who droned:

"Witnesses stay here."

* * *

Draco had passed the Owlery, Fortescue's, Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin's when he saw it. The Weasley atrocious shop. The whole thing was so bright it hurt the eyes. The worst wasn't the facility in itself but more who was at the door.

The weaslette was there, her dark-haired little brat clinging to her chest like a leech, as his mother was pestering about something he couldn't hear. Her brother, the remaining twin and owner of the bullshit shop, was at the threshold, his face set as stone in a red angry frown, his arms crossed against his chest, smoke swirling around his fingers.

Was he smoking?

Whatever. Not in any way wishing to be yelled at or warned by the presumptuous bitch, Draco turned a corner, and found an apothecary. He decided that if he was to run a potion shop, he might as well replenish his kit.

He got out half an hour later, an order placed to be delivered at his office the next day, only to be welcomed by another tedious thing. A small crowd, surrounded by Ministry officials, was loudly expressing their dissatisfaction. Draco caught sight of a mediwitch in the middle and decided that he had better head back to work quickly before somehow ending up accused of something.

He made himself the smallest he could, even if his hair never really helped, and got around the angry rally.

That's when he saw them. Greengrass and a few feet at her right, Blaise. This was definitely not his day.

They didn't see him though, she seemed very busy and Blaise very pissed off. He was apparently arguing with a tight-faced Ministry official, that remained a bit too calm not to get hexed or punched. A few steps away, Greengrass was taking notes next to a man that had his back to Draco, her usually pretty and contained face contorted in an angry frown that didn't look so good on her.

Draco decided that he never wanted to set foot in Diagon Alley ever again. This place was hell.

* * *

Hermione got out of the courtroom much earlier than she could have anticipated. Seven o'clock, which was rather unsettling. She had no idea how things had gone.

The fact that Kingsley didn't either was far from reassuring.

All she had to do now, was to wait for the Wizengamot's deliberations. It was beyond unnerving. She twisted her fingers nervously for the entire lift's journey, replaying the day in her head.

Of course she startled when Tracey grabbed her hand, sighing:

"You should probably go home Miss Granger." Apparently she'd stayed in the lift once it had landed. Good.

"I'll just do that yes." She agreed, which obviously surprised Tracey, a lot. She grabbed her purse, put her now useless notes on her desk, and started away.

She walked all the way down her crappy street, entered her muggle building, climbed the stairs, opened her door, realised she hadn't fixed her vase, cast a reparo, and stopped.

Hadn't she forgotten something? Astoria. Kingsley's proposition. Godric's bullocks.

She sat at her small kitchen table after grabbing a torn piece of parchment and started to write.

A sharp flaming sound burst from the living room when she was almost done. The piece of parchment was ripped from one side to the other, her wand was drown, her heart hammering her chest.

A floo call. Only a bloody floo call. How long had it been since someone had called her flat? She hadn't even remembered having it connected with the floo network.

"Hermione?" Astoria's face was … different. Angry, tired, annoyed a whole bunch of unpleasant things. "Ah you're there."

"What's wrong?"

"Err … I've been deployed. I hate McMillan. I had to take statements from a whole bunch of morons, including Blaise, because the owner of a sodding tea shop didn't bother getting rid of the vermin that infested his … " She started angrily but stopped to frown as Hermione got closer to the fireplace. "Are you alright?"

"Err …"

Astoria nodded: "I see. Hog's head?"

"Damn yes." Astoria turned her face at the back of the earth then, as if looking at someone. When she turned to Hermione again she was grimacing.

"Can Blaise come too?" She asked. Hermione almost burst out laughing.

"If I say no, he's going to sneak his way in anyway, right?"

"Err …"

"In an hour then? I need a shower." Astoria finally smiled and then scowled, she didn't turn to speak to Blaise this time:

"No you're not sodding too cute for her to let you wait on the street!" This time Hermione burst out laughing. Astoria's glare only added to it. It quickly morphed into a sighing half-smile though.

"In an hour." She said, and ended the call.

It took a few seconds for Hermione to stop laughing and head for her bathroom. There, she undressed, and, out of nowhere, remembered she had also forgotten something else.

Malfoy's letter. Wait, no, she had nothing that important to say to send an answer. She had decided that the previous evening, right? Plus, thinking about the blond in tailor robes while naked was surely something no one would ever feel comfortable with.

She shook her head to get rid of the thoughts when an idea came to her. A very mischievous idea. All right, maybe not so mischievous but at least a little. And only if it worked.

* * *

Draco went back home, a little earlier than usual. His shortened trip to Diagon Alley had made him skip lunch and atop being hungry – and sober – he had also done most of the paperwork due for the week. He could very well take care of what little was left during his boring week-end.

Once at the Manor, he went to the kitchens, one of the only rooms he was sure not to cross his mother. The elves had already prepared him a plate, as if expecting him so he ate quickly.

Once in his bedroom, the only occupying activity available was work, and he just couldn't.

That's when something that sent chills down his spine invaded the privacy of his own room.

"You have an owl." Drawled the cold and nasty voice. Draco jumped around as if hit by a lightning bolt. His father's painted disdainful face was wrinkling his nose at the boring still life that had always been above his bed.

"You can …"

"It is my home, isn't it _son_?" He could. He could go in every painting. He could see everything happening in that damned house. This was it. It was all too much.

"Are you finally daft to the point of not moving? I said you have an owl. In my office." Draco obeyed. Slowly, unwillingly, his head empty. He climbed the two flacks of stairs that led to his father's office and opened the door. He wasn't even surprised to see that it was as if he'd never been in there. He opened the window to let the owl in, took the letter from the bird, closed the window, and slumped in the chair by the chimney. He put the letter down on the cabinet, retrieved a glass, opened a brand new bottle of expensive firewhiskey, and poured himself a glass.

The liquid had just touched his parted lips when he recognised the handwriting. Granger.

He never drank the alcohol.


	22. Chapter 22

Friday, May 23rd, 2003.

Part two : Planned encounters.

"Of course I'll take the bloody job!" Extolled the pretty witch, standing, before running around the table to hug her so fiercely that Hermione was certain she'd felt one of her ribs crack.

They clicked their glasses together to celebrate. Against all odds, Astoria looked beyond pleased. Hermione hadn't been entirely confident when she'd asked, but apparently being deployed and having a pompous boss were too much for the ex-Slytherin to handle without hexing someone. Hermione understood, after all, Ernie's manners had always grated on her nerves too.

"So Granger, stealing receptionists _and_ women from me too now?" Hermione did a very childish thing then, she pulled her tongue at Zabini.

"Oh don't you show that nasty little thing to me Granger. You have no idea what I could do with it." He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner that made Astoria stifle a laugh.

"When are you going to stop flirting with me Zabini? I know you like me but it's certainly not of really good taste to flirt when your girlfriend's at the table." Apparently she'd extrapolated. If Astoria's face and the way Zabini almost chocked on his drink were of any relevance, they weren't this far in their relationship. The moment turned really awkward when he finally composed himself, and shifted a frowning gaze to his not-yet-girlfriend.

"Are … are you?" He stuttered. Blaise Zabini stuttering. The world was going berserk.

"What? N … No!" Oh damn. Wait. Was she blushing? Yes, furiously. Did he look … disappointed?! What in Merlin's name was happening?

"I mean … Except if you … err …" Astoria was fidgeting, slowly turning to a bright shade of crimson.

"Do you?"

"Err … I don't know, I …"

"Would you?"

"Well, only if you …"

"I do."

"Oh. But I thought this was just …" Zabini shrugged and Astoria smiled nervously. Hermione was completely lost. Good thing they seemed to understand each other because she wouldn't be of any help there. She tried to hide behind her glass until Zabini said:

"Would you … with _me_? Stori?"

"Yes, I would." Astoria answered quietly before a small girlish giggle escaped her lips. Hermione almost chocked on her drink. Unbelievable. Zabini grabbed Astoria's chin then, grinning widely, and kissed her deeply on the mouth. They had never snogged like that in front of her. How many hands did he have? She only reacted when one of them disappeared behind Astoria's blouse.

"Oh my! I should probably leave you to it!" Hermione exclaimed, standing right up and hiding her eyes behind her sleeve. She was forced to sit right back down by a strong pair of hands though. Her arse slapped on the uncomfortable wooden chair.

"What …"

"You're not going anywhere. If I'm to forgive those two sneaky idiots, I'm certainly not about to spend the evening alone with them snogging like bloody leeches!"

* * *

Draco had hesitated a minute once he'd opened Hog's Head's front door. It was much later than what Granger had written but they were still in there. He hadn't realised why he'd come until he'd seen them from the dirty threshold. He'd come for multiple reasons.

To escape the place he hadn't called home for years. To forget about his own stubbornness and forgive the one person that cared about him (and maybe kick him to make things _easier_ ). To _rescue_ Granger from an horrific night with a _flirting and irritating_ couple. Or so she'd written.

What finally made up his mind was the face she was making. Greengrass and Blaise were talking, the witch strangely blushing to a disgusting level of bright red, and Blaise was turned to her, his back to Draco. Granger's profile was frowning, hard, as well as furiously grimacing uncomfortably. It was only when the couple started snogging as if it were their last day on earth that he finally moved. Rescue her indeed.

His fingers tangled in her messy hair as he pushed at her shoulders for her to sit back down. It was softer than the clod of straw he'd expected. She startled and seemed about to protest but there was no way in hell he would do this alone. Whether it was with Granger or not.

The meddling couple stopped snogging.

"Draco?"

"No, I'm his evil twin." He sneered, and slumped in the chair next to Granger, somehow preferring that to being assaulted with saliva.

"Mate, I'm so sorry …"

"Can I move in your spare bedroom?" That definitely took him off guard. Blaise too.

"Eh, wh …"

"Don't ask and you're forgiven." There was a pause and:

"When?"

"Tonight?"

"Alright." Draco nodded his thanks, as Blaise's confusion morphed into a wide and happy grin. He looked rather stupid. Greengrass' smile was a fond one, as her gaze swept from one man to the other. It was becoming irritating. After a minute of silence, Granger seemed to decide that the contemplation had lasted long enough. Here he'd thought he was her supposed rescuer.

"So, maybe we should drink now." She said awkwardly. Right, maybe he would have to be.

* * *

"Yes! We have something to celebrate!" Astoria seemed as relieved as Draco that the awkward moment had been broken. He still looked strangely out of sorts though. Like, really pale.

Those kind of thoughts shouldn't exist, Blaise had almost laughed aloud.

But he still had to ask Draco what that had been about. Why was he moving out of the Manor? Had something happened?

"Your new boyfriend?" The concerned pale specimen asked with a smirk. Alright, he wasn't _that_ out of sorts apparently.

"Err … shut up. No. My new job with Hermione." Explained Astoria.

"Of course." Draco rolled his eyes and Blaise decided to really explain.

"Yeah mate, they've been punished by the PM. That's what happens when Granger breaks the law."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, they broke secrecy and in exchange she got a job!"

"Would you please keep it down?" An angry Granger? What for?

"Why?"

"Someone could hear."

"There's no one here Granger."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. I have eyes."

"Have you heard of disillusionment charms?" She was turning red, oh this was going to be interesting.

"Why would someone disappear in order to get in here? They wouldn't even be able to get a drink."

"I don't know, to listen to private conversations maybe?"

"We're not at war any more miss Golden." She rolled her eyes to Blaise's greatest pleasure.

"You're irritating you know that? Besides, you promised to keep your mouth shut." He didn't get a chance to answer that Draco jumped in, with a smirk Blaise wasn't fond of:

"It's something he doesn't know how to do Granger. Maybe I should have kicked his arse after all."

Draco had made Granger chuckle. Why did it look like they were sharing some kind of inside joke?

"It's never too late." She shrugged.

"Well, I did forgive him. What was the process already? Ah right, yell at him, kick him and only then forgive him." _Seriously?_

"You forgot one step Malfoy. It was yell at him, _hex_ him, kick him and then forgive him." Oh them, plotting little traitors.

"Oh, right! I might just skip that though, too messy. And I've already yelled at him. So, let's settle on the kicking if you don't mind."

"Oh but help yourself. Please, you'd be a _dear_."

* * *

The word had proved very difficult to articulate but the effect it had on Zabini made it worth it.

"Fair enough. Blaise, please, bend over." That though, was the drop. Hermione burst out laughing and she took Malfoy and Astoria with her. Zabini looked suspicious and pissed off at the same time and it didn't help deflate her laughter. He crossed his arms above his chest, sulking like a baby, but his eyes were calculating. Astoria was the first to calm down and the knowing look on her face cut Hermione's giggles short. She didn't say anything though, and just smirked.

"You two finished?" Zabini waited a moment and then continued: "Planned all this behind my back? You could yell at me mate." Hermione jumped in as Malfoy seemed about to retort something nasty, his laughter suddenly forgotten.

"Well, it was my idea. Although, I did ask him to forgive you. I was only trying to _help_ , you know." Hermione felt her mouth lift in what she knew to be an ugly smirk despite having aimed for a false pout.

"Err …" Zabini's reluctant repentance seemed to satisfy Malfoy though. His mouth was still stretched in a tight line but his eyes betrayed his amusement.

Astoria kept smirking her face out and Hermione found the way she shrugged her eyebrows at her to be rather infuriating. She crossed her arms and glared. Astoria chuckled and changed the subject:

"So? Do we celebrate my promotion or what?"

So they did. For approximately five rows, if Hermione could count right, which wasn't sure at all by then. Of course the conversation turned to some kind of bickering Hermione had no wish to participate in. Malfoy didn't seem too keen on getting involved either. Sighing, she turned slightly to him. If she were to be ignored, she might as well talk to her supposed rescuer.

"So, running a potion shop?" She asked. The news hadn't really come as a surprise, she remembered Malfoy to be a studious git, potions being one of the class he'd excelled in. Of course, being favoured had made his grades higher than hers for five years but then Snape had never liked her anyway. He turned a smirk to her and instead of answering, asked:

"Is there anything that interests you besides work Granger?"

"No." The answer had been blunt and honest. If she'd wished to lie, it was too late. Sodding alcohol. He chuckled, shaking his head, but answered eventually:

"Yes, one shop. I figured it wouldn't be much of a burden atop the rest. Plus, I always liked potions." At these words she realised his grey eyes shone. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

"Yes, I remember it being your favourite class."

* * *

Really? No, she couldn't possibly remember.

"You only think that because it was the only class in which I surpassed you." Draco reminded her, a bit slyly.

"No, I really thought you liked it and _that_ was only because Snape couldn't stand me." She pointed out.

"You can't prove that." He smirked. She frowned irritably.

"I can distinctly remember my sleeping draught being ten times better than yours, and about a hundred times better than Parkinson's and still getting a lower grade." She grunted. Draco decided to push her a bit.

"Memories are unreliable Granger, they depend on one's perception of things." She glared at him. He chuckled and gave: "But you are right, I liked it." She smiled then:

"So I did have a good idea then?" Self-praise wasn't something he'd pictured her doing. Though he didn't really know her now. Still, it was irritating.

"I already thanked you Granger, I'm not doing it twice." He warned.

"I was not fishing you dimwit. I wondered if you followed the advice only for the profit or because you liked the idea."

"Oh. Well, I liked the idea, book-worm." That was for dimwit. She rolled her eyes:

"Anyway. Have you set a date for the negotiations?"

"Monday."

"Good. I'm not supposed to tell you but Nott's next control is scheduled this coming week. You can consult the report before agreeing to anything if you'd like."

"I might." He agreed, it would be helpful. She nodded, and had apparently nothing left to add so she went back to her drink. The others were still arguing about … a shoe? What … Draco shook his head.

"So, the trial?" He asked, regaining her attention.

"Err … we're waiting for the deliberations." Her precedent interest had morphed in something he thought might be annoyance.

"And?"

"And …" She took a large gulp at her glass before continuing: "I don't know."

" _You_ don't know?" It was hard to refrain a smirk. The most famous know-it-all not knowing something.

"Kingsley doesn't either. It was a rather … delicate case. We had to move very carefully and exploit every possible little detail. The man on stand is … wealthy and has a lot of connections."

"I know. He used to come to the Manor regularly when my dad still had the company."

"I'm aware." She grimaced but didn't comment any further. Being one of his father's acquaintances was enough to make the man guilty but she was tactful enough not to mention it. Not that he would have minded anyway. She was now frowning at her glass, as if in thoughts. It was only when she started tapping the tip of her fingers on the rim that he realised that she really had no idea how it had gone. She seemed worried, not annoyed.

"I'm sure you managed to win. Never lost a case, right?" Right, reassuring her was a perfectly sane thing to do. What was wrong with him?

"Err … There's always a first and those bastards twisted my words at all angles it was …" She rubbed her face in her hands. He found the sight rather disturbing.

"Didn't Greengrass help?"

"She did. I only hope it was enough." She sighed, dejectedly. Not knowing why, or pretending not to anyway, he took her glass from her nursing hands, and poured her another round:

"Here, forget it."

She chuckled, taking it back: "You're so posh Malfoy."

"I am not." He snapped. What was taking her?

"Then stop pouring the glasses for me."

"Why?"

"Because I've been gifted the extraordinary chance of possessing two hands." She mocked.

"Which seem to be failing you. You spilt some, here." He said, pointing to a little drop of firewhiskey next to her glass.

"I'm drunk." She sneered in justification.

"Not an excuse. I am too and I didn't …" Damn.

* * *

Mimicking the hand move that had made her spill a tiny drop of her firewhiskey on the table had only made him spill some of his. He looked so stupid now. Stupid and exasperated. Hermione burst out laughing at his face.

"Twice Malfoy. Maybe you should stop trying to mock me. Even I could do better."

"Right, I forgot who I had in front of me there. Granger beaver, better than the others." He snapped but the wariness in his eyes proved it was only banter this time. Hermione rolled her eyes. Why ever people thought that was unnerving. Did they still based their opinion of her on the eager-to-learn little girl she'd once been? She was not that girl any more. And she was no better than anyone else.

"You know, I never pushed people to think that, right?" She asked.

"It was just a joke Granger." He answered quietly, his frown deepening.

"I know, but … the fact that you still said it is … I mean I'm not only what people expect of me."

"I know that." Did he? When she frowned, he added: "Have you met me? Ex-death-eater. If we were only what people thought …" Oh, damn.

"Right, I forgot you had your share too." She cut. He didn't say anything, and just kept watching her quizzically. Hermione felt like she ought to push the matter, she would blame it on the alcohol later.

"It's infuriating. People put a label on your forehead and then you're supposed to only follow it. And even when you do they judge! Why do you think I never read the papers? I stopped when Witch Weekly said that I only got the position because I knew Kingsley." She was rambling, damn.

"Well he did got Stori a job." Apparently not, Astoria and Zabini had stopped bickering, the last was smirking to Hermione.

"I admit that that was favouring, but I can assure you, I worked my bloody way up the scale on my own. It was a lot of sacrifice." A _lot_.

"I know. I only saw my grandma on Sundays for a whole year." Of course he knew. It had been Mrs Zabini's project after all. Hermione didn't know what to say, and, surprisingly, instead of mocking her this time, Zabini seemed to sense it and continued:

"But I reckon it took more time for you to have it ratified."

"Six more months. She got me the hearing but I still had to convince the Wizengamot."

"This long? I thought you got the position right away." Astoria was frowning in disbelief. Hermione explained:

"No, it came only after and with a warning. If it were to fail maintain stability in the concerned companies I could say goodbye to the job and to any other possible position within the Ministry."

* * *

"Really? I thought your name would have helped." Blaise was clearly surprised. Draco wasn't somehow, their government had been as rotten as that war anyway.

"It didn't. After the war there were reluctant to let a ... muggle-born ascend the scale." Draco shuddered at her hesitation. "Especially one who was famous for bringing down Voldemort." Here, another shudder, she didn't seem to notice though. "Because it could lead to an overthrow of the established Wizengamot if we were to ever disagree, the public opinion would have been on my favour."

Blaise answered, it now seemed as though Draco wasn't part of the conversation any more. It was probably for the best anyway, he hadn't known she'd also had issues with work.

"And you went through all this for our company? Why? I mean … we weren't exactly on good terms …" The lad seemed to be reading his mind though, why would she sacrifice so much for them?

"Your grandma came to me … She said she'd never dared clean her estate for fear of retaliations. And I never truly believed that all death eaters families were consenting either. It was a win-win somehow. Get rid of the dark arts in the most profitable companies of wizarding Britain and allow outcast death eaters families to keep running a business without trouble."

"Yes, we were ordered to close the business after the war." Nodded Blaise.

"I know. Your father too Malfoy." Really? "That's what convinced me too. We talked about forgiveness and moving on, but cut short on the most vulnerable families? It felt so unfair. I mean, those who were pardoned were also told to close business. What were they supposed to do? Nobody wanted to hire them. How was that fair? Rising a series of regulations that would control and make sure the businesses were clean could at least give back some credit to the families and also permit them to show their goodwill. Plus, all those companies were the most wealthy ones and were pretty much running our economy. Without them we'd be doomed clearly."

"I never thought you of all people would want to fight for our families." Draco said quietly. She'd been the most bullied by those families during school. She'd been tortured under his roof. By _his_ family. That she was empathetic enough to fight for their well-being went beyond him. Especially when he knew exactly what kind of sacrifice she'd had to deal with.

"Why not? We were just kids. And it _was_ unfair." She turned from him when he opened his mouth to tell her what had been unfair for her.

* * *

Hermione turned away from Malfoy's frown. Whatever he was about to say she didn't want to hear. She wasn't talking about this to argue or get apologies. She didn't care for his apologies, she had forgiven him years before. Them.

"It was your grandma's project, Zabini. I had the idea but not the position." She continued.

"I know. She was brilliant." The wizard smiled.

"She was." She agreed and he grinned though sadly.

"How was she?" Asked Astoria, a hand on her new boyfriend's shoulder.

"Scary." Malfoy answered. Hermione chuckled. "Strict." He added.

"Unforgiving." Zabini shuddered and continued: "Stubborn and always right."

"Intuitive and compassionate." Added Hermione. Zabini's frown was so deep she wondered if it would stay carved in his forehead.

"It sounds like you, Hermione." Winked Astoria.

"I'm not unforgiving." She countered burying herself in her glass not to glance at Malfoy.

"What do you say we go out with Judith sometime?" Astoria smirked and Hermione blurted:

"That bitch can burn in hell." They all laughed as Hermione rolled her eyes:

"Alright. Depends."

"She had to really like you to work with you so long you know. She never spent more than a couple of weeks with associates because they got on her nerves."

"I'm glad. I really liked her too."

"We all did." Muttered Malfoy. Apparently the witch had been important to him too. Another thing they'd had in common.

The evening ended in a more joyous note, as Zabini shot her another round of pretend flirt, pretexting his grandma's soft spot for her, all of that under Malfoy's gagging face and Astoria's snigger. Hermione was the first to go, stumbling on her feet to get the pot of floo powder as they all waited in line before the fireplace. Of course the three others didn't miss the chance to snigger, even though they were in no better state. Hermione found that she appreciated this upfront friendly mockery, a little auto-derision didn't hurt anyone and it was not like the others hadn't had their share too. She entered the earth, still giggling.

"See you Monday." Said Astoria, before pecking her cheek. Even Malfoy nodded at her with a small smile and the evident remains of laughter at the corner of his eyes. It felt … strange.

Once home she wondered though, he had seemed slightly off the hook when he'd arrived, and had asked Zabini if he could move in with him. She shook her head as she kicked her shoes off, it was none of her business. He had refused her help, though he'd taken her advice, and he knew he could come to her. Maybe he would.

She snorted. Right, like that was possible. Still, it twisted her stomach, and she was certain the alcohol had nothing to do with it.

* * *

"I'll come by later." Blaise snogged his first real girlfriend ever until Draco slapped the back of his head.

"You can do that later too." He rolled his eyes but let go of the blushing witch nonetheless. Once she was gone too, which took another ten minutes after Granger was gone, they both flooed to his place.

"Got your things?" Blaise asked.

"Shrunk in my pockets."

"Still not allowed to ask?" It was said as if he didn't really care but Draco knew he did. He followed Blaise to his guest room, and threw the couple of shrunk suitcases on the desk. Blaise didn't go. Draco sat at the edge of the bed and sighed. After a moment, he confessed:

"My father's portrait can go in every painting." Blaise didn't say anything. When Draco lifted his face to see if he was even still there, he said:

"You can stay here as long as you need, I won't try to convince you into doing anything."

"Maybe you should." He whispered as the door closed after him.


	23. Chapter 23

Monday, May 26th, 2003.

Draco walked out of his company building, heading to the Leaky Cauldron, a bitter taste in his mouth. The meeting with Nott and Flint had not gone as planned. They'd insisted on knowing every detail of the agreement he was trying to get and the sum of the investment had seemed to interest them more than the profit they would make out of it. Draco had stayed resolutely mute about it and he'd sensed that their politeness had been forced.  
When Blaise joined him at the counter, Draco was still trying to figure out what the glance both possible associates had shared had been about.

"Bad meeting?" Draco sighed:

"I don't know."

"What does that mean?"

"That I think they want something more out of it than just their share on the shops. But instead of asking they're trying to play me."

"Really? What could they want?"

"That's the thing. I don't know." After a moment of silent thinking, Blaise asked quietly:

"You think they want a share of your company?"

"I can't sell any." Blaise didn't answered right away. He had, since Friday night, avoided the subject of Draco's ordeal completely.

"Maybe you could offer more then? Simply sell them the shops."

"I was supposed to run one." Blaise shrugged:

"Just ask to manage one as an employee. Would be one thing off your hands. "

"Mm. Maybe."

* * *

Hermione got out of the department of Mysteries, a wide grin plastered on her face. She'd won. Even Kingsley had cheered once they'd left the courtroom. It hadn't been easy but she'd done it. With help. She now had a witch to thank. Two actually.

When she reached her department, Tracey didn't need to be told. She congratulated her right away, and led her to Astoria's new office.

The pretty witch was putting her things away in what had once been Martin's drawers, a frown on her face. When she heard them, she didn't need to be told either, and jumped on Hermione.

"I knew it! Congratulations!"

"Well, it's only thanks to you two."

"Don't me modest, you had all the work done, we only gave you a little push in the right direction." Smiled Tracey, her frown slightly less pronounced than usual. Hermione could swear she'd heard her mutter something about that direction being home Friday night, but she couldn't be certain, Astoria's voice was louder:

"We should celebrate! Let's go out Friday night!" She extolled. "Tracey you're coming too!"

"No thank you. I have other plans on Friday night."

"Oh." Tracey nodded and made to leave them. They were both left slightly disconcerted.

"If that's not a tight-arse …" Mumbled Astoria after a pause. Hermione didn't dare contradict her, even if Tracey probably didn't want to spend an evening with her boss, which was perfectly comprehensible. "Anyway. I'll tell Blaise tonight. He'll bring Malfoy too. Err … if you don't mind of course."

Hermione shrugged. She had no idea if she minded or not. To be honest she'd worried about him a bit too much to her taste since their last night out. The fact that he'd come, at her request, was already strange, but to add to it, he'd moved in with Zabini. And Astoria hadn't mentioned it once, it was unnerving. She settled for :"Err … I guess it's alright." There was a pause, in which Astoria's grin morphed.

"You can ask you know." Hermione decided to ignore her knowing smirk and ask. Not knowing was too irritating anyway.

"How is he?" Thankfully Astoria didn't comment, and her smirk vanished, as she scowled, maybe a tad angrily.

"I have no idea. Blaise refused to tell me."

"Really?"

"Yes, I think he learned the lesson. Our last experience with telling secrets seems to have been enough for him. You played us good by the way. I thought you'd only offer him your help." Hermione shrugged:

"I did."

"Yes, and you told him to forgive Blaise." The corner of her eyes pleated.

"Well, I owed him."

"No you didn't. You also talked about his potion shops." One of her eyebrow shot up.

"He told me in his answer. That's it."

"Right, and you suggested he kicked Blaise." Now she was smirking again.

"I was only trying to have him consider forgiveness."

"Right, and I'm ugly." Her smirking bliss didn't last long enough for Hermione to retort. Astoria frowned, and shook her head: "I'm spending too much time with him …"

Hermione took benefit in her sudden annoyance to leave her office and lock herself in hers. Whatever Astoria thought she knew, it was taking a turn Hermione definitely didn't feel comfortable with. She'd only tried to help. End of the story. She hadn't even worried that much. She'd just been curious. It was Malfoy for Godric's sake!

* * *

Tuesday, May 27th, 2003.

Sir Graham Foster sentenced to a year in Azkaban.

 _As expected, our favourite muggle-born heroine, Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her generation, has, yet again, proven to the wizarding community that no one should cross her path in the face of justice. The Foster trial had been delayed for months by the wizard's unbeatable defence until the Head of Law Enforcement …_

"Exactly what she talked about Friday mate, they even put a picture of her from after the war." Draco grabbed the Prophet from Blaise's hands, and perused the article. It was a very detailed eulogy, punctuated by presumptuous post-war stupidity. It barely talked about the man she'd sent to jail. Something was missing though.

"Where's Weasley's interview?" Blaise's eyes grew wide:

"I forgot! Give it!" He scanned the whole paper, but didn't seem to find it either.

"It's not there."

"That's odd. Greengrass said …"

"I know. I'll ask her."

A moment passed, as they resumed eating their poor lunch and Blaise finally asked the inevitable question:

"So, the negotiations?" He made a show of chewing his steak. As if Draco couldn't see that he was all ears.

"The last meeting is tomorrow."

"What are you going to do?" He didn't even lower his fork. Subtle.

"Push it until they say what they really want."

"And if it's a share?"

"Try to sell them the shops." There was a pause before Blaise asked, his eyes resolutely drawn to his plate:

"And if it doesn't work?"

"Then I'll rot." Blaise grimaced, but didn't push the subject. It was the first time he gave a clue he still cared about the whole situation. His silence revealed more irritating that relieving.

* * *

"Have you seen that article? It's … unbelievable." In a bad way apparently.

"I don't read the paper Astoria."

"Even when you're ex-husband's interview is supposed to be there too?" Damn. She'd forgotten about that.

"Err …" Astoria quit reading the article and flipped the pages of the prophet. The more pages she turned, the more her frown deepened.

"What?"

"It's not in there." Hermione shrugged:

"Maybe Rita decided not to publish it."

"I doubt it. She was adamant that it got out. It's strange."

"Well, I think it's for the best. I have no wish to know what he thinks about me now." Mostly no wish to think about Ron at all. She had managed quite successfully not to until then, she wasn't about to go back to her old demons. Right, and by extension, she wouldn't think of Harry either. Or Ginny. End of the story. Oh, and George!

* * *

Wednesday, May 28th, 2003.

Blaise came back home, after a quick visit to Astoria's new office, feeling slightly irritated. His _girlfriend_ , he still had to get used to the term, had said she had work to do. A new case had apparently been presented to their department, and even Granger had stayed late at work. They'd practically kicked him out of Granger's floor.

Letting those two work together was the worst idea their PM had ever had. Surely Blaise would never get to see Astoria on a working day ever again. He could get bored for Salazar's sake!

Draco only came home once Blaise was comfortably sitting in the couch, a book in hands, and a glass of firewhiskey in the other, trying to read away his growing boredom.

"Good day?" He asked, knowing by Draco's face that the answer wouldn't be pleasant.

"No. They want a share of the company." He growled.

"Shit."

"They said they'll consider any offer I'll make but …" He deflated all of the sudden.

"Sell the shops." Blaise tried.

"I'll try." He then slumped on the couch next to him, kicked his shoes off, probed his feet on the coffee table like he bloody well owned the place, and snatched the glass from Blaise's hand. He got some nerves.

But then, he'd looked hopeful a few days before, and now he just looked hollow. It was awful but Blaise wouldn't try to convince him. Granger's offer still held, and Draco needed to realise all by himself that he couldn't keep going like this. Lifting his mood though, that he could try.

"We're going out Friday night."

"Are we?" An almost white eyebrow shot up, he'd grabbed his attention.

"Yes, Astoria's booked a table somewhere."

"Why?" Both eyebrows up, he got the lad's full attention.

"To celebrate Granger's trial."

"And I'm invited?" He startled in clear disbelief.

"Apparently." Blaise smirked.

"Oh." He saw Draco hide a frown in the glass, pretending to drink, and then a very small, almost imperceptible smile. Blaise decided not to comment. If what Blaise thought he saw was real, then it was something Draco would have to find out on his own too.

* * *

Thursday, May 29th, 2003.

Hermione found that Astoria looked slightly odd that morning, but when she asked, the witch had dismissed it, "Blaise snores." She'd said irritably. Hermione had decided that it was none of her business. Whether she found it strange or not. "Trouble in paradise." Had muttered Tracey.

It was only at lunch, when the pretty witch started mumbling under her breath, holding the Prophet for the third day in a row that Hermione sighed:

"What's going on?"

"I've asked Pansy's cousin about the interview." She growled from behind the paper.

"Err … and?" She lowered the paper and folded it in half before answering:

"And it's been cancelled." Hermione shrugged, trying to convince herself that she didn't care. "He mentioned Potter." She added warily. A lump dropped at the pit of her stomach.

"Wh … What does Harry have to do with this?"

"I don't know. He just said that he came and that then he was ordered to destroy it." Astoria had apparently hesitated to tell her. Hermione understood her. Because she didn't understand why. Why would he … After their argument …

"You … You think … ?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe he read it …"

"I … don't get your hopes up Hermione alright? If he'd done it for you, he would have told you." Hermione only nodded. Was it really all on Ron's behalf? She huffed inwardly. How stupid was she? Surely the interview would have shattered Ron's image more than hers, since Rita wouldn't publish anything nasty about her. Right, it was certainly only that.

"If he does though, call me. He'd better beg for forgiveness at your feet and have a full set of apologies ready or I'll take care of him." Hermione chuckled, somehow feeling better seeing Astoria's sudden fool mood.

"If he does I'll kick his arse before he says anything." She smirked. Astoria seemed relieved. There was no way Harry had done it for her after calling her a coward anyway. Why had she even asked herself the question? It raised a full batch of new questions on Ron's behalf though, but she shoved them away, returning to the open file before them. Work would keep her mind busy.

* * *

"Potter?" Why did that wanker always had to put his goggled nose everywhere?

"Yes. Stori said he had it cancelled." Answered Blaise.

"Odd." Why would he do that?

"Especially since the last time he had an article cancelled it was only because one of his aurors had done something wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"Stori didn't tell Granger but she dug something out. When Potter works his way in the press, it means he's covering his arse."

"It doesn't mean it's the case now." Blaise shrugged as if suggesting otherwise. "You think Weasley's done something?" It was the only explanation Draco could find that made sense. After their argument it was certain that Potter wouldn't take Granger's side in anything. He'd thrown at her the worst insult for a Gryffindor after all. Calling one of them a coward was like calling a Ravenclaw stupid.

"Maybe." Shrugged Blaise.

"Why would he cancel the interview then? Wasn't it supposed to be something for his good image?"

"I don't know. Not to draw attention on him? I'll ask Stori."

"That's … "

"Weird yes." Indeed it was. If Draco had still been on good terms with Rita Skeeter he could have asked her. Except that after the nasty shit she'd published about him after the war they were now more navigating between polite acknowledgement and whispered insults. Draco sighed, he'd thought about the two last thirds of the broken golden trio way too much already. He needed to change his mind. Blaise seemed to think otherwise though:

"Shame the weasel's picture won't come out though." Draco chuckled. It was a shame indeed. After a moment of again picturing the two wankers, he sighed and asked:

"What's on that stupid paper anyway if they can't even publish when auror's don't do their jobs properly …" Blaise handed him the paper, and grabbed his glass instead:

"Nothing apart from an arrest. An ex wanna-be death-eater that hexed his pregnant wife because she'd bought a muggle dress or something."

"You're kidding?" Those kind of men still existed? In what world did they live?

"Nope. But he's back in Azkaban now, and not in a pretty state apparently."

"At least Potter's department's done something good." For once. Blaise snorted.

"Right. Let's catch a rotten idiot but whisper threats at people." He grumbled.

"They need to keep their image up after all. When they don't make women cry they eventually manage to catch a few bag guys."

"Right. Sodding wankers."


	24. Chapter 24

Friday, May 30th, 2003.

Part one: Unpleasant encounters.

Draco read again the proposition. Twenty percent of the company. Nothing that would enable them to take over. Twenty percent of the profits. In exchange for financing the reopening of the shops, the staff, and leaving him with seventy five percent on them. It was a fair deal actually.

A deal he couldn't sign.

He took his own contract out of a drawer, again. He read it, again.

 _The heir shall not sell shares of the company._ Only a Malfoy could own a share. It was written there, black on cream.

His next move was childish, and only proof that Blaise was always right, _temper tantrums_ indeed. The contract remained unscathed. The desk under it showed burnt stains in a deep coal colour. It stained the fingers.

How mad was he now? Shooting incendios in his office. Blaise was right. He was fucking right.

* * *

Hermione followed Astoria a few paces behind. How was it that she'd ended up accompanying her to buy a new set of robes? Ah, right. The pretty witch had taken her by the sleeve after work and dragged her all the way to the Leaky Cauldron. She'd also only told her where she was going once they'd been in Diagon Alley.

They approached an isolated black wooden door, that only seemed to be someone's fancy front door. It wasn't. Hermione felt strongly out of place as she entered the shop. She knew, even on the threshold, that even with her reasonably high salary, she probably couldn't afford to dress there.

First, there was no clothing in sight, second the tapestry, third there was too much to look at. A petite woman, with pearls and a lifted chin, welcomed them:

"Ah, miss Greengrass, I'll have your order ready in a moment. Oh. Miss Granger! Welcome to Witchety clothing! What can I do for you?" Of course, even pearled women recognised her. The saleswoman's frozen smile and expectant gaze were definitely commercial though.

"Err …"

"Maybe you could surprise her? She hasn't planned on buying anything but I'm sure you'll manage to change her mind."Astoria's own polite smile persuaded Hermione that she didn't like the witch.

"Of course. Please take a seat." The last nodded and strode away, passed a small door next to the luxurious seating area, and disappeared out of sight, her heels rattling all the way after her.

Hermione sat next to Astoria, on a plush green velvety armchair, as another witch with similar pearls, not a hair out of place and a strange square jaw, came and offered them a glass of sparkling water.

"I forgot you were loaded." Mumbled Hermione in her glass, once they were left alone again. Astoria chuckled and then shrugged:

"They've got the best robes. You can even ask for permanent charms on them and they never get stained, never unpick."

"I'm certain I can't afford that."

"I swear it's not that expensive. I'm not the kind of woman to spend my father's money on the useless. I've got a sister for that." Right, Daphne. Hermione grimaced as Astoria continued: "I just need a set of new robes for a charity my mother's hosting soon. Those," She said, showing the black robes she always wore to work. "I've had for years." Eyeing the robes from close for the first time, Hermione realised that they were made of the finest material. She lifted a hand to touch them on Astoria's arm and the witch smiled as Hermione's mouth fell agape. They were so soft!

"Everything is ready. If you wish to follow me." The first witch had reappeared and led them to another room. A fitting room apparently. Astoria visibly didn't need instructions, as she went to hide behind what seemed to be her usual curtain.

"This way miss Granger. Come out once you're done so I can have them fitted. We don't have your measurements yet." She was smiling, but when Hermione went to go behind the set of curtains she was showing with a hand, she caught the little grimace the witch gave at her hair. Bitch.

She found herself in a rather large fitting room, with another plush armchair, a very large mirror that had the nasty benefit of giving her a full picture of herself, and in a corner, were a few sets of robes waiting for her on hangers.

The red caught her eyes right away. There were three set of robes. The first one was black, light as silk, but warm, probably a charm, and was to be worn with the matching black blouse and skirt. The blouse was … well, almost transparent, but Hermione was sure that nothing inappropriate would be seen, and the skirt was just the right length.

The second, which had caught her eye, was a bright ruby red. Light too, and cut so her cleavage would show, again nothing inappropriate, just some skin. Under it was a magnificent red dress. Ankle length, with a very low cut at the back. Damn, she'd never wear that.

The third and last set of robes was in a deep forest green colour, so dark that she'd first thought it was black. The material felt like silk in her hands, it tried to escape her grip as water would. It was … mesmerising. The dress under it was nothing but appropriate, if ever so beautiful. Hermione couldn't describe it. It was neither long, nor short. It wasn't showing too much, or not enough.

"Hermione?" She jumped, and Astoria joined her inside.

"I could have been naked." She scowled. Astoria snorted:

"So? Are you trying anything? Oh! I've got a similar one at home! I love this collection." She grinned, showing the green set.

"It's beautiful."

"Try it on."

"No thank you."

"Oh come on! Try one. Please." Astoria pleaded. "You don't have to buy it!" Well, she couldn't anyway.

"Err …"

"Come on it's fun!" Astoria looked … too enthusiastic. Hermione started to feel uneasy.

"Err …"

"Please? Just for fun Hermione!" Just when Hermione started thinking that Astoria had a very similar penchant for shopping than Ginny, and that she didn't like it a bit, the witch laughed:

"I'm just messing with you." She smirked. "Now, leave them your measurements just in case, we'll come back sometime if you'd like. The boys are going to wait for us." Relief must have shown on her face for Astoria laughed the more. It didn't last long though.

Pansy Parkinson was having a dark purple fluffy atrocity fitted when they got out. The pug-faced woman spotted them instantly and rudely pushed away the witch working her magic on the dress, to come to them. Astoria rolled her eyes.

"Hi there! Finally decided to do something with your tasteless wardrobe Granger?" Hermione sighed, not answering. As if taking it for a challenge, Parkinson kept going: "Or is it such a lost cause you settled on following Greengrass like a dog in the hopes that she gives you a treat? Maybe a second hand skirt or something …" She sneered, wrinkling her nose at their ministry robes.

"That's a lot of nasty words for such a small mouth." Astoria spat, before adding mischievously: "Goes well with your nose though."

"Oh I'm hurt." Parkinson flattened a hand on her chest for a more dramatic effect. Hermione wanted to hit her already. "Someone could see you with _that_ you know Greengrass. Wouldn't do to …"

* * *

Blaise was supposed to join both women in Diagon Alley, they'd go to the restaurant together. Astoria had said to meet them at Witchety and Blaise started in the large street, confident that for once, he was on time.

Of course, not for long.

As he passed the Weasley shop, the still smoking polite git was there, as well as his truculent sister.

Of course, she saw him, and of course, she glared fiercely, her nose screwing as if she'd smelt something rotten. Better put the bitch at her place then.

"What? Never seen a good looking man? Tired of your goggled prat Weaslette?" He smirked. She started angrily but Blaise frowned at her brother. Had he just chuckled?

"Fuck off Zabini!" She barked.

"You've got as much retort as your brother, it's saddening." There the wanker frowned, he even cut his sister to answer himself.

"Maybe if you didn't pick arguments with my family you wouldn't be so sad Zabini." He said, cocking his head to a side as if to inspect his reaction.

"Not my fault they always glare."

"Well maybe if you …" The bitch started.

"Ginny please, that's enough." The twin cut again. Oh she didn't look pleased with him now.

"Don't take his side! That idiot pissed off Harry and Ron!" She was reddening by the second. Just like her stupid brother. Not the twin, but the last third of the broken trio.

"I know. Come inside now, James is waiting for you." Weasley's warning tone seemed to be something the sister didn't argue with. He showed her the door, and she reluctantly went inside, not without giving one last nasty glare to Blaise though. The twin stayed outside and eyed him a moment. Just when Blaise was about to snap something cutting, he said:

"Tell Hermione I'm still waiting for her visit." And he opened the door to his shop, leaving Blaise slightly confused. Wasn't he a Weasley too? Did Granger still saw the guy? He didn't seem as bad as the others though, maybe she did. Blaise shook his head and the thoughts away, too much red tribe thinking couldn't be healthy anyway, and took a glance at his watch.

Great, now he was late. He practically ran to Witchety but Granger and Astoria were nowhere in sight. Patience was not his thing. He went in and asked for Astoria. A small woman led him to the fitting rooms as he prepared himself for a nice nonchalant entrance behind Astoria's curtain.

He should have stayed outside. Pansy.

Might as well save the damsels in distress then. He'd see Astoria naked later anyway.

* * *

Hermione jumped as someone passed an arm around her shoulder. Zabini was there, smirking his face off. He winked at her before turning a bored gaze to Pansy Parkinson.

"Hello there Pans' didn't know you could still afford to dress here. Have you finally found a new fiancé to milk?"

"Sod off Blaise."

"Great retort. I see you're as clever as ever. We should go ladies." Astoria stifled a laugh as he turned a false enamoured smile to Hermione. "Let's hurry Hermione _love_ , we'll be late. Astoria, _dear_ , come along." He nodded to his girlfriend, under Parkinson's shocked face.

"You … you …"

"Stuttering is ugly Parkinson." Was Astoria's answer as they strode away to the other room. Zabini didn't let go of her shoulder until they'd left the shop.

"Remind me to buy witch weekly tomorrow. Should be interesting." He said and Astoria chuckled before saying dramatically:

"Head of law enforcement, recently divorced, fooling around with mysterious bachelor."

"Great." Muttered Hermione.

"I'll kiss Malfoy publicly to make it up to you." Astoria winked and Zabini didn't seem to appreciate:

"Hey!"

"That's going to confuse the hell out of everyone if they see you two together next." Hermione commented.

"I can't wait! Blaise Zabini cheating on our favourite war heroine!" Continued Astoria.

"Imagine Weasley's face Granger." Zabini smirked. Hermione felt instantly guilty as she chuckled. And then she swallowed it back. He'd told her to go enjoy her pathetic life with ex-death-eaters himself, hadn't he? Fuck him.

"I'm back to Granger then? But … I thought you liked me …" She pouted.

"Getting cocky _Hermione_? Oh, I like that … Ouch."

"Enough." Astoria still winked at her when Zabini started before them, rubbing his ribs.

* * *

Draco hadn't joined Blaise for lunch that day. He hadn't felt like talking and knew the lad could see his moods right away. Even if he'd avoided the subject with brio since their argument, Draco had decided against taking the risk of having that conversation.

Instead, he'd skipped lunch, and went for a long walk after work. He should have joined Blaise and endured the possible questioning. How come someone could be this luckless? _Self-pity_. Right, but maybe if he'd kept his head out of his arse he could have avoided that and apparated directly to the Leaky Cauldron. Now he was face to face with Pansy just outside of it.

"Draco." She said, stopping before him, and somehow blocking his way past her.

"Pansy." He tried to put as much venom in his voice as possible, but as usual, she didn't seem affected.

"How are you?" She asked.

"Now that I see you, not that good."

"I see." Something glittered in her eyes and she cocked her head to a side: "I take it you'd refuse any drink I'd offer then?"

"I'd rather hang myself." He tried for a disgusted face that only made her sigh. When had his glares become so ineffective?

"You know someday you'll realise you were wrong."

"About what, pray tell?"

"I was the one for you Draco. It's a shame you won't realise it until it's too late."

"Poor me. Where's your new fiancé anyway?"

"I don't have one, yet."

"Right. Because no one wants you Pans." She laughed, her fake hypocritical high-pitched laugh. He was getting at her.

"But the thing is Draco, no one wants you either. You shouldn't have left me."

"I'm better off without you." And if no one wanted him, so be it, at least he wouldn't be with _her_.

"Right, alone with your pathetic company. That's how you'll end you know? Old alcoholic man, head of a company. A happy life ahead of you." Petty, she was getting irate.

"At least I'll have the money you're after. And you won't have a sickle." He bragged.

"Don't worry about me Draco. I'll always find a way to money. Parkinsons always do." She smiled, somehow self-confident again.

"Don't put your hopes on Nott though, he's going to work with me soon."

"I don't think so." She smirked blissfully. She was enjoying this much more than permitted, something was wrong.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing that important. But you know, you shouldn't tell every girl you put in your bed that you're under oath Draco. Some people could use it against you." That bitch! How dare she!

" _No one_ plays me. You hear?" Suddenly her smirk didn't show that much self-confidence. Had she spoken too much? Draco continued, trying to prove his theory: "I won't be under oath for long anyway." She snorted but looked uneasy still.

"How are you going to manage that? Even the Weasley girl is already married. There's not a lot of pure-blood woman still single Draco."

"I won't need to marry anyone." She laughed and he decided to shut the bitch up: "I've got a really smart Ministry official on hand ready to find a way to break the oath."

"Liar. No one will help you there." She spat.

"Mm. See, someone will. Ever heard of Granger?"

"Granger? You're joking, right?" Now she was fuming. Good.

"No. I'm not. Contrary to you I grew out of my prejudices. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be."

"You're delusional. Granger will never help you, she hates you!" Did she? "She's just a crazy mudblood." She spat and Draco boiled inside.

"Do. Not. Use. That. Word." He growled.

"Why? Because Blaise's shagging her? She's just a whore." What? That was bullshit. That woman was bullshit. She was petty and vile and monstrously prejudiced and he so couldn't stand her.

"How could I ever think you'd be good for me?" He snarled. "You disgust me. And you're lucky I don't hit women because I would have gone the _muggle_ way with you." She snorted, and his next words surprised him as much as it did her. "You know what? Granger's a hundred times the woman you'll ever be." He spat, and roughly shoved her off his way.

"Granger's just crazy mudblood bitch! She's filth! I'll always be better than her!" She shrieked at his back.

Draco lost it. Her face, her disdainful and rotten face, stirred in a dreadful sneer that made her the ugliest woman on earth, inside and out, broke something in him. He took a step back to her, grabbed her by the collar and hissed:

"What did you _say_?"

"You heard! Now let me go! Let me go or they'll drop the negotiations! You'll get nothing!" He could have laughed. As if he cared about the negotiations. They knew he was under oath, thanks to that bitch, and if they hadn't told anyone yet, they would once he'd dropped the negotiations. There was no way he'd make any deal with those scumbags now that he knew they were associated to her. He didn't say anything, a slow bitter smirk replacing his anger. He didn't let go of her either.

"Let me go you bastard! Go back to that mudblood!" He tightened his hold of her robes.

" _Don't use that word_."

The warning in his eyes was enough apparently. She knew he wasn't joking around any more. He'd kill her. She stopped fighting his grip, fear in her eyes.

"You think you're so much better than everyone else, don't you? Well, let me tell you something Pans. You're the filth and your blood has nothing to do with that. You're rotten inside out, and I hope you die, alone, bathing in your own worthless bitch blood. You know nothing about Granger and if I ever hear you call her mudblood again, or even speak her name, I'll kill you. Now, go tell your little friends that no one plays me. _No one._ I don't want to hear from neither of you ever again."

He let go of her, practically throwing her to the building at her back, and strode away.


	25. Chapter 25

Friday, May 30th, 2003.

Part two: Pleasant encounter?

Well, Draco was in a good mood. The lad, usually so annoying about punctuality had showed up thirty minutes late, pretexting a prolonged meeting. Blaise wondered if they'd refused his offer. Probably. Although it seemed evident for Blaise that his best friend was glowering in ire, he was also pretending to be perfectly fine, and at least Granger seemed to fall for it. Maybe.

They sat down at the secluded table Astoria had booked for them in a small but cosy restaurant. Something not really fancy, to avoid attracting too much attention, she'd said. They were hidden behind a large curtain of potted plants, that, if still incapacitated people to really see them, also didn't hide them entirely.

The waitress was pretty enough, but he seemed to be the only one to notice. Although he didn't look at her long, Astoria had taken his hand under the table and his interest shifted immediately. That woman would be the end of him. The drinks and appetisers appeared on the table instantly after they'd ordered, and Astoria lifted her drink to a visibly uncomfortable Granger:

"So, to Hermione, and her brilliant arse kicking in court!"

"Right to Granger." Blaise added, as Draco only nodded stiffly, all lifting their drinks up in the air.

* * *

Reality seemed to fall upon Hermione just at the precise moment she took the first sip of firewhiskey. She was, for the first time ever, celebrating having won in court, in a restaurant with none other than Astoria Greengrass, whom she'd only been courteously but rarely working with a few weeks before, Blaise Zabini, whom she'd avoided like the plague until then, and Draco Malfoy, her childhood bully – among other unpleasant things that could be attributed to him. AND she was, even if slightly embarrassed with the attention, glad to be there.

What the hell had happened to her?

"What's with the face Granger? So used to win you're not happy to celebrate?"

"Err …" The hell to it, why no be honest with Zabini? "Actually it's the first time I ever celebrate my work." She confessed.

"You're kidding, right?" Startled Astoria.

"No. And, no offence, but … I mean …" She gestured towards the table, not knowing exactly how to put it and not hurt their feelings. "Who could have imagined here that this would happen?"

"What? Spending your precious evening with us? But you dreamed about it a thousand times!" Zabini smirked. He seemed to understand which released the tension that had suddenly appeared on Astoria's face. Hermione chuckled.

"Imagine this dinner, ten years ago." She said.

"I would have had to restrain Draco from hexing you." Zabini gushed, holding back a laugh. Hermione almost laughed too:

"I would have hexed him first." Malfoy snorted in outrage.

"I was a bloody seeker. You'd never hit." He countered, and now she laughed:

"I'm a war heroine Malfoy, you'd never see it coming!" She'd been about to add the reminder that she'd already hit him in third year, and that he certainly hadn't seen it coming back then but Astoria jumped in:

"I knew you used that card sometimes!" She accused as if she'd discovered Hermione's secret.

"Of course she does." Zabini shrugged. "I use my good looks. You play with what you have."

"Don't pretend that you don't to use your assets too Greengrass. I've seen you make this one crawl at your feet for commemoration." Added Malfoy.

"Oh and what do you use Malfoy?" She snapped back as Zabini seemed to reflect on that.

"My money." It was so blunt that Astoria shut her mouth, killing her retort in the egg. Then, she grimaced:

"Alright, it seems we're all rotten. Welcome to our circle Hermione. The rotten people." Hermione shrugged at Astoria's apparent bitterness. She agreed with Zabini, sometimes, if you wanted something, you had to play around the rules. Why did she feel like saying it aloud would trigger sniggers?

"I don't see what's wrong in using your assets to get what you want from time to time. Rules are made to be broken."

She'd been wrong. There was a pause. Then the sniggers.

"Would you put that on paper for me? I'll make money. A lot of money." Zabini said, pretending to grab a napkin and fuss around for a quill.

"It's the century's confession. I can't believe you said it! I knew it!" Extolled Astoria.

The only one it didn't seem to surprise was Malfoy. He'd been the one calling her a tight-arse all through school though.

"Nothing to add Malfoy?" She asked.

"You broke into Gringott's, polyjuiced as my nasty aunt. It's no surprise to me." He blanched, if that was possible. As if he'd just realised who he'd mentioned.

* * *

Damn. That was definitely not a subject he wanted to branch with her. Ever. Especially not in public. Fucking idiot. She shook her head and although she stayed turned to him, avoided his eyes. Then, she smirked and he froze.

"I also brewed polyjuice in second year and Harry and Ron went as Crabbe and Goyle to make you spill the beans." Well, the change of subject was efficient. He was completely abashed.

"What?"

"We thought you might be the heir of Slytherin and …" She had the decency to flush at that. "They did a good job though. You never realised it."

"Are you serious?" When? He certainly didn't remember neither Crabbe nor Goyle being odd once. Well, not more than usual anyway.

"You brewed polyjuice in second year?" Muttered Greengrass, an expression close to awe on her face.

"Yes, and yes, in Myrtle's bathroom. Sorry about that Malfoy."

"I … _Who_ are you?" It was the only coherent thought Draco had been able to form. Who the fuck was that witch?

"I might repeat myself but how the hell did you end up in Gryffindor?" Greengrass' face was half agape in admiration, half frowning in something he couldn't place.

"Err …" Granger paused and seemed to settle on: "I guess I was braver than …"

"Devious?" He cut.

"I was thinking cunning but …" She finally turned her gaze back to him. She could have shrugged. As if it were nothing.

"That was pure mischief." He said.

"Oh, come on you dramatic!" She dismissed, rolling her eyes.

"I'm not dramatic!" Blaise had the good idea to burst out laughing. Draco's glare didn't stop him.

"I was thirteen." She argued.

"That's even worse."

"Oh! You're one to talk!" She snapped. He blinked. Right. He hadn't exactly been an angel himself. "It was a lifetime ago anyway." She concluded quietly, eyeing him from a side. "I was just trying to say, that even though it's the least expected gathering, I'm glad to be here." She was? She was also avoiding his eyes, smiling nervously. As if they'd reject the idea.

"I knew you couldn't resist me Granger." Blaise saved Draco from saying anything. And thank Salazar because he'd had no idea what could have come out of his mouth then.

"Oh shut it. You'd crawl back to your mother if I were to throw myself at you." She retorted. Draco almost chocked as Greengrass burst out laughing:

"That is so true!"

"Well, to my defence, you are quite scary." Blaise justified, lamely in Draco's opinion.

"Here I thought you were overly self-confident." She taunted.

"But not reckless." He pointed out.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" There was warning in her tone. Draco watched the exchange of wits, utterly baffled.

"That you hid your cards pretty well all those years, Granger. If I'd known, we would've been friends for long. Just friends." He'd added the last part with a bit of a wary tone and Greengrass' laughter doubled. Granger was ... grinning. At Blaise. Draco had known it. They were friends.

"That's not what the papers will say tomorrow." Granger chuckled.

"I can't wait to see how they'll put it. Muggle-born war heroin with pure-blooded aristocrat. Or, head of law enforcement with business man, possible conflict of interest." Greengrass wasn't making any sense.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Draco finally asked.

"Oh, we saw Pansy earlier. I might have called Granger _love_ in front of her."

"Why?" Pansy, again.

"She was picking at Hermione." Explained Greengrass.

"Really? _When_?" Draco tried to swallow back his sudden wrath but it was possible he failed.

"Just before getting there, you know, and waiting for you for an eternity." Completed Blaise.

"Oh." So that was what Pansy had been on about! Poor naive bitch. Rotten, _and_ stupid.

* * *

"Her face was priceless. She stuttered." Extolled Astoria.

"Who's devious now?" Mocked Hermione. Astoria pulled her tongue at her. It seemed to be something they both did a bit too much recently. Of course it triggered a flirting comment from Zabini. What he wanted to do with her tongue was something Hermione had no wish to hear about.

Judging by Malfoy's grimace, he didn't either.

Hermione didn't know what subject to start with, the logical side of her brain told her to ask him about the potion shops, but the way he'd looked positively furious when he'd arrived after his meeting made her reluctant.

She couldn't possibly ask about his moving in with Zabini either, it was none of her business. What did one speak about with their old childhood enemy anyway? This was unnerving. Plus, as much as he was not looking the couple's way, he was also avoiding her eyes.

She found that her chair was slightly turned to him. As they'd talked, she'd moved it unconsciously. That made her frown. But what kept her frown in place was the way Malfoy was clenching his jaw. The same tension she'd seen on his neck that night at Hog's Head was back and it was unsettling. His fingers, that she found rather long – it would be a shame if he didn't play the piano – hold a furious grasp on his glass, his knuckles were as white as a sheet.

Hermione wondered if his meeting had been the sole reason for his stiffness, and she thought that it was probably not. Almost every time she'd seen him, whether they'd joked around or not, he'd looked like that. And to add to it, exhaustion had again left light purple stains under his cold stare into nothing. He'd refused her help though, when it was clearly evident that whatever issue he had was more than bothering him. What could she do? Even Zabini had given up on trying to help.

Well, if she didn't know what to talk about, she still didn't want to remain stoic. She waited, but he didn't drink what little was left in his glass. So, after a moment where Astoria and Zabini had found the time to bicker about something she didn't understand, she drew a hand to his glass. He jumped as their fingers brushed and seemed so taken aback by her movement that he didn't resist when she extracted the glass from his grip.

She decided not to look at him then. She grabbed the bottle, unscrewed the cork, poured him a tad more than appropriate for a spirituous drink, and took her time to close the bottle again. Then, without a word, she pushed the glass back to him.

* * *

She didn't say anything, her gaze was resolutely glued to what she was doing. It didn't take a lot of concentration though, and Draco could see that she was just avoiding his eyes. She was frowning, hard, and a corner of her mouth was bound in a crooked line. She had a dimple on her right cheek. Was that line worried? It looked as such.

"Thanks." He mumbled as she pushed the glass back to him. The line loosened to the start of a smile and she turned deep brown questioning eyes to him. How had she seen? Was he that transparent now? No, Greengrass hadn't seen. Blaise had, but then, there wasn't much Draco could hide from him, even when he tried, but Granger?

 _Intuitive and compassionate._ Maybe Greengrass was right, she knew her better than he after all. And now that he knew what she'd been through even with work, it was undeniable anyway.

He didn't say anything though, and when she'd apparently decided not to look his way much longer, he watched her fidget and glance at the glass she'd pushed to him.

She seemed better than the last couple of times he'd seen her. She didn't stare into nothing any more. She seemed less tired, less … hollow? Well, less hungover certainly. Was it the outcome of the trial that had finally eased her tiredness? Or was it that she was getting over all the shit her supposed friends had put her through? Or over _that_? No, he supposed no one could really get over loosing a child. Even less three. His heart clenched at the thought.

She kept giving his glass quick worried glances though, so he lifted it to his lips and saw her turn her gaze to her own glass nervously. He sighed:

"Ask, and get it over with." Her face snapped up to his and she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. After a moment where he'd stayed frozen, trying to maintain his usual bored stare, she sighed.

"You don't want to talk about it." She said in a final tone, and then grabbed her glass. It was true. Especially since it concerned her. How was he supposed to tell her he'd threatened someone to death on her behalf? How insane would she think he was? How insane was he anyway? He'd just been so angry at that bitch Pansy! Right, he'd have reacted the same way about any other muggle-born. It wasn't really about Granger, more about Pansy fucking Parkinson, poking her disgusting nose in his business, ruining his chance of escape, and being her rotten self.

"Maybe … maybe we could talk about something else?" She tried, wariness even in her posture. It snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Whatever you pick." She shrugged, apparently relieved he hadn't refused.

"Err …"

"Look, it's either that or we keep listening to them and frankly I'd rather hang myself." She blurted, her eyes back on him, and he couldn't have formulated it better. Thoughts of hanging ropes usually punctuated his nights out with Blaise. Well, not that much recently though.

"Agree on that." He said. She cocked her head to a side expectantly and Draco tried to find something to talk about. Only questions came to mind and he would never, ever ask them. He already knew what Potter had meant anyway, and clearly, hearing a confirmation would only ruin her, him too probably.

"So?"

"Err … it's not that easy. Especially since your only interest is work." He justified.

"Cause you have other interests?" She asked incredulously.

"Quidditch." He smirked.

"I'm not talking about Quidditch." She scowled. Right, she hated flying. But he couldn't think of anything else.

"It's a hobby Granger. A nice subject of conversation too."

"I used to knit." She countered. Point to her, no way in hell was he talking about knitting.

"Err … Okay no Quidditch. But it's as far as my interests go." She sighed.

"Ask me something then." She pressed after a quick glance at Blaise who was now murmuring profanities in Greengrass' left ear.

"What?"

"I don't know, anything."

"Err …"

She rolled her eyes:

"Look, I … Right, I'll just tell you something about me and then you do the same?" Really? That was all her supposedly brilliant mind could come up with?

"That oddly sounds like some sort of dating game." He grimaced. She seemed to agree, her own face matched his.

"Err … It is _not_." He cocked an eyebrow at her. It still looked like it. "I just … I feel like I don't know you is all. It's … We're here so …" She suddenly looked so vulnerable it was unsettling. The Gryffindor in her seemed to have spoken something she hadn't been ready to say. Honesty was a villain monster. Was she expecting him to be mean again? Probably. But he wouldn't, and he agreed with her anyway. He'd thought exactly the same since they'd started meeting. Some things hadn't changed, she was still witty, brilliant, and all focused on her work. But she didn't seem as fair and rule following as he'd thought her to be. She wasn't uptight either. What she'd snapped at Blaise, and the way she looked completely unaffected by his flirtatious attitude only confirmed it.

He was the one sticking her with ghosts from a past that had long been behind them.

Why not try to make the better out of this evening then? It wasn't like he'd enjoy bickering with the lovers. At least a conversation with Granger wouldn't cross any boundaries.

"I hate white wine. Gives me head aches." He gave.

* * *

Hermione let go of a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. What was wrong with her? Sodding Gryffindor honesty just expressing itself. Astoria could attribute her all the Slytherin traits she wanted, she had definitely not been sorted in the wrong house. Speaking without thinking.

It seemed as though Malfoy agreed though, and thank Merlin he'd decided not to comment. He was now waiting for her to answer apparently. So she did:

"I'm useless in a kitchen. The only thing I know how to cook is eggs." She suddenly remembered Molly's disproving stare as she threw the content of a whole frying pan in the trash. Malfoy chuckled:

"It's no surprise." He smirked jokingly but the memory of Molly's face had tensed her a tad.

"'Cause you know how to cook?" She snapped.

"No, not a clue. Raised by house elves." He didn't even look apologetic. Posh. She chuckled:

"That I knew. Your turn."

"Alright. I … I always take my coffee black. No sweeteners in beverages." She hadn't pictured him to have a sweet tooth anyway. He was too … thin.

"I put honey in my tea when I'm at home. I don't drink coffee." She answered.

"Maybe you should." He smirked.

"Maybe you should look at yourself before mocking me." It was her turn to smirk.

"I'm not surprised you can't recognise handsomeness." He huffed, dismissing her warning by waving a hand in the air pompously.

"Oh but I can …"

"Weasley?" He cut.

"Is perfectly fine looking." She argued, and then muttered more for herself: "For a prat." He chuckled:

"Then I'm a god."

"Right, and my hair's pretty." Too much sarcasm apparently, and mocking her own hair, and Malfoy burst out laughing. Sodding git.

"Sorry but … I mean … you hair …" He half-extolled half-grimaced after only a few seconds of a low laughter she'd never heard before. It had nothing to do with the drunken snigger she'd heard the last couple of times.

"I know." She sighed.

"Good thing you're not delusional." His derisive smile was becoming rather irritating. Maybe they should go back to the game.

"Maybe we should stick to non-physical subjects, shall we?"

"Fair enough. Please, help yourself, you'd be a _dear_." He said, mimicking with a little too much exactitude the way she held herself at the table.

"Err … prat." He chuckled, but didn't retaliate and she obliged: "I hated divination."

"I've heard. You quit, right?"

"Yes." Strange that he would remember, but then, the whole school had gossipped about it for weeks.

"I always made up a whole bunch of crazy dreams for assignments. Trelawney always fell for them." He reckoned. If Harry and Ron had managed to do so too, it meant that it hadn't been that hard to fool the loony teacher.

"Oh my! You tricked her third eye? But how?" She joked.

"I'm brilliant of course." He explained, chin lifted up in the air. Posh.

* * *

"I was right." Whispered Astoria in Blaise's ears.

"They don't even hear us." He confirmed.

"It's just like the other time. They can talk about us …"

"Right, but leave them be. Don't want to break the spell or anything." He murmured. Astoria smirked, her pretty lips stretched with mischief. Oh how he liked that smirk.

"Maybe they'll talk about work." She winked.

"Would be about time." Mumbled Blaise, turning to listen to the two former enemies. They didn't look like enemies at all. Half-turned to the other, glass forgotten in hands, wands out, babbling about whatever scholar subject. Blaise smiled for himself. If Draco still hadn't changed his mind, she would certainly be reason enough for him to. He didn't even need to interfere.

"Want some pie?" And he didn't care anyway. Astoria had her fork full of pie lifted to his face, a mischievous little spark in her eyes, her lips stretched in a smirk that could melt any man.

* * *

How they'd ended up debating on the subject of levitating charms taught in first year, Draco had no idea. But he didn't care, what they were currently talking about went beyond Hogwarts teaching and was beyond interesting.

"So, see?" Granger was explaining, a little spark in her dark eyes. "The force with which you push your wand up determines the height of the object. If you switch it slightly left, then you equilibrate. If you were to levitate something heavy, like the armours in Hogwarts for instance, you'd want to switch left a tad more. The movement is key. The incantation is only a magical release. As long as it's pronounced right, muttering it or yelling would have no consequence." The fork she'd been levitating to demonstrate her point went higher, and then she released the charm and lowered it slowly to the table again. Her eyes still glimmered with something he couldn't name, and that dimple he'd seen earlier had made another appearance.

"Exactly, that's why wordless magic can be as strong as when spoken. I once fired an incendio in our common room chimney, a bit carelessly, without thinking, and the flick was so brutal that I burned the rug. Now what I don't understand is why they don't teach that to children. Would have avoided a hundred of Finnegan's explosions in class!" She laughed, making her forgotten drink swirl in the glass she was holding.

"And some of Neville's!" She managed between giggles. Draco surprised himself by laughing too.

"I'm sorry to interrupt but we're closing." Draco jumped at the exact same time Granger did. Blaise and Greengrass were watching them, ignoring the wary waitress that had just spoken. Draco's mood shifted instantly at their smirking faces. Granger seemed suddenly very uncomfortable. Draco looked at his watch, it was almost midnight. Their conversation had lasted almost two hours, without interruption.

* * *

Hermione watched him realise what time it was. Then, his discomfort matched hers. She stood, ignoring the smirking couple entirely.

"We should go then." She mumbled. The couple sniggered as Malfoy glared, the strange easiness with which he'd spoken with her completely gone. He was back to angry, irritated, Malfoy. She sighed as he stood to follow her, Zabini and Astoria still giggling at their back.

Once they'd left the tiny restaurant, and found themselves alone in Diagon Alley, the couple bid their goodbyes too quickly for it to be perfectly innocent, and after a peck on Hermione's cheek, followed with a not-so-discreet wink, Astoria grabbed Zabini's arm, who had apparently been annoying Malfoy and both disapparated away.

"Wanker." Malfoy growled, looking beyond pissed off. After thought, Hermione found that the situation wasn't that irritating. They'd talked, so what? They should feel good about it not uncomfortable because their friends had a dirty mind. They'd managed a civil conversation. For the first time in their lives.

"Leave them be. If they're stupid enough to think anything is going on between us, it's their issue." He deflated instantly but his tension was still there.

"Right." He muttered. Hermione sighed, she knew that something else was bothering him.

"Still don't want to talk about it?" She asked quietly.

"No." His negation wasn't really convincing, but she decided against pressing the matter. They'd just had their first civil conversation ever, she wasn't about to ruin the new friendliness by meddling in his business. She nodded, and made to take a step to apparate away but somehow couldn't make herself move. The words left her mouth on their own:

"You know that my offer still holds right?" When she'd expected him to frown angrily or dismiss her words, he swallowed. His shoulders slumped and he suddenly looked so vulnerable Hermione had trouble believing it was Draco Malfoy in front of her. His grey eyes were so light, his gaze so wide that she couldn't tear her eyes off of him. The moment passed as instantly as it'd arrived though. His cool bored facade gripped his face again, but his eyes … Merlin.

"I know." He said quietly. Maybe it was the Gryffindor in her, maybe it was something else, but, just before leaving him there, she drew a hand to his arm.

* * *

She seemed to realise that she was about to touch him though, and dropped it. Or maybe it was the way he'd jumped when she taken his glass from him earlier, but she let it drop nonetheless. She sighed then, and said in a quiet voice:

"I don't know what this is about Malfoy but …I can see ... I mean ... Never mind, just ... I promise you can trust me if you change your mind."

Her dark brown eyes were on his all along. Draco couldn't look elsewhere. She gave him a small genuine smile then, she had a dimple on each cheek. Then, she retrieved her wand, and without another word, was gone.

Draco was left alone in the deserted Alley. He watched blankly the spot she'd occupied only a moment before for several minutes before moving.

The only word to describe what had just happened was kindness. She was kind. He couldn't remember the last time someone had been kind to him. Blaise was caring, not kind.

Having Hermione Granger of all people, kindly reiterate her offer to help him, with something she knew nothing about was a kind gesture. She'd seen his anger, how, he still had to find out, and she'd offered her help. Again.

He should probably take it.

After what Pansy had said, the collaboration with Flint or Nott was off. He wouldn't open potion shops. He wouldn't have his escape.

How was he supposed to keep going like this now? He was in such a state that even Granger had noticed.

But it would mean asking her. It would mean come to her for help. When she'd practically sacrificed her entire life for others already. First by helping Potter at Hogwarts, then during the war, then, after the war, for them. He was redeemable. He couldn't ask her to help him more.

She'd sacrificed a family for people like him. Undeserving people that had only bullied her for years, or watched her be tortured without so much as lifting a finger.

How could she offer her help, again? To _him_? Whether he'd taken her side with Potter or not, it would never reach what she'd done for him already.

 _I'm not unforgiving._

 _We were kids. And it was unfair._

Forgiveness. Here was why she'd offered her help. Because she'd forgiven him. When he'd never been able too and had kept punishing himself, sulking in his own misery, self-pity as Blaise put it, instead of swallowing back his pride to get help.

Blaise was right, always fucking right. Sodding Zabini family. Sodding Granger. She was right too. Nothing was fair anyway. And it was time he swallowed his pride, stopped punishing himself, and took the offer this woman, this very capable woman, who wouldn't offer if she didn't want to, had twice given him.

He'd have to ask her.

Whether he'd feel like a total unworthy waste of space doing it or not.


	26. Chapter 26

Saturday, May 31st, 2003.

When Blaise got home this Saturday, around noon, after a very long breakfast, and a session of getting kicked out of Astoria's place because she supposedly had work to do, it was only to find a very pissed off Draco, sulking on the couch. He didn't move when Blaise got closer. He had opened a bottle of firewhiskey but had apparently decided against drinking any, the bottle was still full and the glass next to it, empty. The scowl on his face, his crossed arms, and the sound of him mulling over something incomprehensible under his breath made Blaise sigh. What in Salazar's name had happened now?

"What got your knickers in a twist?" He asked.

"Nothing." Draco growled.

"Right. You're so jolly, you could have fooled me." Draco snorted and Blaise sighed again. He slumped on the couch next to the stubborn idiot, accioed another glass and poured them a drink, it wouldn't be a first to drink before one o'clock anyway. He shoved one of the full glasses in Draco's hands and said:

"Talk you bloody twat."

"Pansy fucking Parkinson." He spat.

"What's that bitch done again?"

"Guess why I was late yesterday night."

"Ah. I knew something was off. Go ahead I'm all ears."

* * *

Draco told him. Everything but the death threatening part. He didn't want Blaise to make assumptions about something that didn't even exist. By the time he was finished, Blaise was outraged.

"What does she think she's doing?" He fumed.

"Telling her little dog Theo that I'm under oath apparently."

"And who does she think she is?"

"I have no bloody idea." Draco spat helplessly. "I don't even understand what she's getting out of it!"

"Well, she pissed you off."

"Her face pisses me off. She's not that bothered anyway, so selfish she has to get something ..."

Blaise seemed to reflect on that a moment, then he shrugged:

"Maybe she thinks that if she helps Nott senior he'll have Theo marry her?"

"How does that help Nott? They didn't even try to blackmail me!" Draco growled. He'd been replaying their conversation over and over in his head all night and still didn't understand why they hadn't used that information or why she would tell them if it weren't for her own benefit. It didn't make sense.

"She bluffed then?" Tried Blaise, unconvincingly.

"I don't think so. She really looked like she'd done something wrong." And she definitely had.

"And they didn't use it? Why?" Blaise seemed as confused as he was.

"I don't know!" Draco almost shrieked frustratingly.

"Well, find out."

"How? I told her I never wanted to hear from them ever again." And if he did, he might kill someone.

"It's Pansy mate. She'll never confess having done something wrong. Bet they don't know." Right, sure. After all, she still persisted in saying she'd done nothing wrong during the battle of Hogwarts.

"So what? I keep negotiating?" He asked.

"Yes." Blaise nodded. "Find out what they want. Then, tell them to stuff their bullshit up their arse."

"More death threats to come then." Draco scowled.

"Oh come on! You can't be taking those seriously."

"I'm not. It's just annoying. It's …" Draco rubbed his face in his hands, practically digging his nails in his temples. "All that because of that bitch! I mean I was so close! I could have gotten something that finally interested me and she pokes her sodding big nose in my business again!"

"I don't even understand why you took her back after the war." Blaise frowned. "You knew how she was …"

"I didn't really take her back Blaise… I was lonely. She was the only one not too repulsed to shag." Draco confessed, bitterness screwing his face.

"And you still told her about the oath?" Blaise frowned.

"Err … I was really drunk once, and I told her that if I wanted to get rid of my father's company I had to get married and … And … Nothing! Then I shut up! Because I realised I'd spoken too much! I never told her about the heir! She only …"

"She thinks your future spouse would have a say in your company?" Blaise sounded half-incredulous, half-amused at her stupidity.

"That conniving bitch! How did I not see it? I mean, she pushed me for months before I dumped her! I just thought she wanted my vaults!"

"She wanted a say in your business. That's not surprising mate." Blaise said, shaking his head.

"Right. I still don't understand why they didn't use it. They even asked for a share they know I can't sell."

"Then they didn't believe her. You know she hasn't got the best reputation since the war … Even Stori says she's outcast from her mum's parties. Maybe they were trying to check she didn't lie first." Oh, maybe. Maybe they'd just been trying to check before incriminating themselves. Make sure that they wouldn't get in trouble, after all, Granger's department was on them more frequently that they checked on his or Blaise's business.

"So if I refuse you think they'll start the blackmail?"

"It's only a speculation but …" Shrugged Blaise.

"The only one we've got."

"Right. Keep negotiating. See if she's really told them. If she has …" He seemed to hesitate.

"What?"

"Trick her. Accept."

"I can't."

Blaise didn't say anything and just kept watching Draco with expectant eyes, apparently still decided not to voice it. Draco didn't push him. He'd told Granger already, by letter of course, and it had been hard enough that he didn't need Blaise's comments.

If she could break the oath, he could sell the shares. Nott and Flint would think Pansy was a load of bullshit and keep their mouths shut, and the bitch wouldn't get a sickle.

If she couldn't … They'd threaten him to tell everyone probably. Which would definitely crush the oh-so-very fragile start of approximatively correct reputation he had. What would people, and mostly less tinted associates, think if they knew he'd been under his father's hands all along?

He couldn't afford that. They'd make him empty his vaults, they'd ask for everything he could give away, the shops, his shares in other companies, Black heirlooms, anything. He'd end up broke. He didn't even have that much left! That sodding company had cost him so much to recast that most of their family wealth had been engulfed in it. That's why he'd needed their investment in the first place! He couldn't afford to reopen the shops by himself.

The only things they couldn't get were the company and the manor. He'd be trapped. Between those two horrid places, broke, and spend his life trying to keep the business from drowning.

* * *

Hermione folded the very short note and put it aside. He'd changed his mind. Draco Malfoy had changed his mind, swallowed back his pride, and asked for her help. Indirectly though, he'd just written that if her offer still held, he'd like to meet. He'd also asked her to keep it silent.

Still, it was a step. Whatever it was, it had to be damn important.

She grabbed a scroll of parchment, cut a piece from it, and dipped her quill in ink. Then, as his owl hadn't stayed, as if he didn't believe she'd answer, she got out of her building, into her crappy street, and to the dead end she used to disapparate.

It was ridiculous that she'd never gotten an owl of her own. Since she'd decided that Pigwidgeon was too old to deliver mail, she'd used the Ministry owls. She'd never received much personal mail since she worked at the Ministry and had always been able to reach her err … _ex_ -friends via notes, and her parents always wrote from Australia via the muggle mail. Now that she was alone though, and if she were to help Malfoy without anyone knowing at work - they still checked the mail thanks to Harry's paranoia - she'd need one.

So, Hermione apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. She nodded to Tom, and got out on the courtyard. She heard the whispers as soon as she'd passed Fortescue's. She ignored them. Then she remembered that Witch Weekly had probably written something about her and Zabini.

She chuckled for herself, and lifted her chin. She walked down the uneven pavement, passed Madam Malkin's, the narrow street that lead to the apothecary, Flourish and Blott's that was crowded and apparently presenting a new collection of potion books, and reached Eeylops Owl Emporium. She held her chin high the entire time, and saw the looks. She didn't care for them a bit.

She got out the pet shop with a small Tawny owl, that had looked at her sadly, a whole bag of treats, and a cage, wondering how she would name the bird.

She still got the looks. An old lady even stopped before her to frown disapprovingly at her. That was it. When she reached the paper's stand, she bought her first Witch Weekly in many years.

The last time she'd read that pile of crap, it said she had an affair with Harry, and possibly the Minister of Magic, for getting such an important position so young. She didn't open it until she was back to her flat, wouldn't do to loose her mind in public.

At first, she laughed. Aloud. The sad owl she'd been petting jumped out of her lap to go back to its cage. She'd never laughed this hard in her entire life. Then, she realised that the looks she'd gotten meant that some people believed this load of crap. It was still funny. Maybe she should send George a copy, he'd definitely like the mention. She decided to send it for Zabini instead, and joined it to her answer to Malfoy. She didn't really know how George would take the joke. He'd been friendly enough but it still involved Zabini.

* * *

Blaise had kept his mouth shut. Draco wished he'd just said something. It was their fourth drink, and he'd kept glooming on his misery. The lad had fetched an old prophet, and was even pretending to read.

His eyes weren't moving.

"Stop trying to look smart." Draco snapped. Blaise sighed, and folded the paper before answering:

"What do you want me to do? There's that hypogriph in the room but you made it really clear you don't care for my opinion. And seeing the mood you're in, I doubt you'd wish to talk about the Holyhead Harpies' poor score this season. Seems that since the Weaslette's on maternity leave they're falling. Hard."

"Err …"

"See? Now …" Tap, tap, tap. A small tawny owl was at the window. Draco jumped on his feet but Blaise was closer. He snatched the somehow heavy letter off the bird's paw.

"Granger?" He smirked. "Oooh! Love letters?" That wasn't funny. At all.

"No you stupid wanker. I asked for her help."

"You did?" He startled.

"Yes. And you don't get to brag about it or say anything. Give that letter." Draco warned. He was sure Blaise's neighbour could feel the lad's mirth through the wards. He still gave the letter to Draco, and started mumbling under his breath while the last opened it.

 _Malfoy,_

 _Is meeting at my office out? If not, come there Monday morning. If so, would tomorrow afternoon, two o'clock be alright with you? You pick the place._

 _H Granger._

 _P.S: I joined the last Witch Weekly for Zabini, feel free to read it first. Should be entertaining._

Blaise snatched the letter from his hands and Draco unfolded the copy of the gossip magazine she'd sent him. After only a few seconds Blaise was reading above his shoulder too.

 _Blaise Zabini, well-known bachelor, manipulated?_

 _It has been reported to our offices that the very handsome, yet somehow not-so-smart, bachelor has been spotted out of Witchety clothing (well-known for their beautiful wedding gowns) with none other that the famous war heroine, Hermione Granger, under his arm._

 _The witch, recently divorced from war hero Ronald Weasley, and the least expected choice for this handsome man, harboured a fond smile as Blaise Zabini lead her out of the prestigious shop. One of the saleswoman has testified that the couple looked "enamoured", if oddly-matched. The man would even have defended her against one of their old schoolmates whose name we'll keep quiet._

 _Nobody will believe that the bachelor prefers brains over looks though. If his previous conquests are of any relevance, it is found very strange that he'd pick Granger in the large crowd of beauties ready to fall at his feet._

 _While Granger isn't exactly ugly, she's still very fond of Ministry robes and unruly hair, among other outdated shoes, and is also very small and probably malnourished._

 _Whereas Zabini's smile would make any of us melt, his athletic physics only adding drool to our mouths, and his taste in fashion has been copied by all wizarding gentlemen over the years._

 _But yet, it is well known that his brains don't match the trial winning Ministry official. Maybe Granger, now head of department for two years, has decided to fool around? Maybe after enduring the famously short-tempered redhead she's decided to have a little fun? Or is it all about his money and privilege?_

 _How does she do? You'd ask. Well, we have the answer. Her ties with the Weasley joke shop are common knowledge and our reporters suspect the use of love potion._

 _A witch as clever as she, could definitely trick the poor man into drinking his daily dose without him suspecting a thing._

 _How far is Hermione Granger ready to go to obtain what she wants? From having an affair with the boy who lived, Harry Potter, while married to his best friend, in order to get a position in the Ministry, to using her ties with the new Prime Minister to climb the ladder until she was named head of department, and now drugging a poor man into loving her, how far will she go before someone stops her?_

"Wow. Even Greengrass couldn't predict that." Draco didn't know if he was supposed to laugh or be horrified.

"Stupid! They're calling me stupid!" Blaise barked.

"And handsome." Draco minimised, still unable to erase the wide smirk that had taken his mouth.

"But stupid! Easily manipulated! Tricked!" Blaise fumed.

"Too pretty for Granger." He added, ready to burst out laughing.

"That's not even true! They're just jealous! A bunch of Pansy's! That's what they are!" Draco blinked. What had he said? "Those bloody bastards! What? Something to add maybe?" Blaise was outraged but Draco couldn't go over what he'd just said.

"You find Granger pretty?"

"Well, are you blind?" Blaise frowned, his previous anger forgotten.

"But …"

"What? Her hair? Even you can't be _that_ superficial. She's not some model beauty like Stori but she's pretty enough." He shrugged. When Draco didn't say anything, his head suddenly empty, Blaise smirked:

"Tell her to come over here tomorrow. I'll have Stori fetch her." That unfroze Draco.

"You're not putting Greengrass in the middle of this and we're not discussing the oath here." He warned.

"Why not? She already knows and she works with Granger now. We could use her opinion. Plus, she's sneaky enough to find out about Pansy's bullshit. One stone two birds. Three birds, if we get Granger to lift your mood again."

"What?"

"Oh come on! You liked our little diner last night, didn't you?" Again? When would he stop being stupid? Draco didn't even bother to contradict him, as Granger had said herself, it was his issue.

"Sod off." He sighed instead but Blaise didn't seem to be ready to stop.

"Oh, Granger, do you remember how to levitate bullshit? Oh but I do Malfoy, it was so much fun! Let's ignore our friends for two hours and …"

"I'm warning you Blaise, stop that." Draco hissed between clenched teeth. Blaise was utterly unimpressed:

"Oh sorry. Of course if you'd prefer to meet her alone …" That was it.

"Salazar Blaise I swear if you don't stop your charade right now, I'll hex you. Besides, you spent the night snogging and bickering with Greengrass, we had no choice but to try and have a conversation. Now, I asked her help only because I have no other choice. You are going to keep your nose out of this. Am I being clear?" He roared angrily. Blaise had stopped smirking.

"Crystal. But still … That was a hell of a conversation." He still challenged quietly. Draco decided he didn't want to argue. Instead, he'd reverse the mockery:

"Well, she's smart. Which you're not. Even Witch Weekly says it's well-known."

"Shut up!"

"Smart retort."

"Wanker!"


	27. Chapter 27

_Sunday, June 1st, 2003._

 _Granger,_

 _Your office is fine on Monday, if you make sure that no one hears why I'm there. Even Greengrass, Blaise is insufferable enough. Let me know what time would be best._

 _I enjoyed the article by the way, I found very 'entertaining' the part where they call Blaise stupid. He didn't like it so much to my greatest pleasure._

 _Thank you._

 _D Malfoy_

 **OOO**

 _My dear "love" Hermione,_

 _Stop manipulating me into loving you, my heart is already taken by a real pretty witch._

 _On more serious matter, I didn't get a chance to tell you Friday, (you were too busy talking with Draco to see me anyway), I have met one of the Weasleys before joining you at Witchety. The one who owns the love potion/joke shop. He asked me to tell you that he was still waiting for your visit._

 _Is he bothering you? I can kick his arse if you'd like._

 _See you when I pick up Astoria tomorrow BEFORE six o'clock,_

 _Blaise._

 _Malfoy,_

 _Nine would be perfect, I don't have any appointments until eleven. Don't worry about it, I won't tell anyone, even Astoria. Client meetings are confidential anyway and nobody will suspect anything more than another control._

 _I'm glad you enjoyed it, I hadn't laughed this hard in years. Wait until they spot him with Astoria though. It should get even more 'interesting' then._

 _Don't thank me yet._

 _H Granger._

 **OOO**

 _Blaise, my not-so-dear love,_

 _It's not my fault you are so stupid._

 _Thank you for telling me, and don't worry he's not bothering me. Glad to know you like me so much you'd be ready to kick arses for me._

 _See you when you pick up Astoria tomorrow, at SEVEN we've got a lot of work._

 _Hermione._

* * *

Monday, June 2nd, 2003.

The shortest encounter ever.

It didn't last more that a dozen minutes. He was in and then out of her office before Hermione had the time to really process what he'd told her.

He arrived, right on time, and entered as soon as she'd answered his soft knock. He nodded stiffly and sat facing her. Then he handed her a file he'd been holding and, without further ado, said in one streak:

"I'm under contracted oath. My father's work. It keeps me tied to the family business. I want out. I can't bear with it any longer. The only way out that's specified is to have a heir of age to whom I'd will it. Which I refuse to think about. I won't force that on a child, ever. There's no loophole as far as I could see. I'm stuck with the company. I can't sell, delegate too much or even donate. Nothing."

She took a moment before answering. How was it that he managed such a blank face when saying something like that? It was _awful_ and yet he just seemed bored. The other times Hermione had been able to at least notice hints of his moods. Then, he was impossible to read. Calm, controlled. It had to be horrific for him to try this hard to hide from her.

It was horrific anyway. It was the company of his terrible father, which he'd had to recast entirely, under _her_ strict control. It mustn't have been easy. Especially since he'd apparently rather have done anything but that in his life. Hermione remembered the way his eyes had lit a tad when he'd spoken about opening a potion shop, he'd looked enthusiastic. Well, as much as Draco Malfoy could look, which resumed to looking mildly interested.

And he'd been forced to. If he wanted out, he had to get married and his own son, Lucius' grandson, would inherit the deed.

How twisted.

He had to be hanging on the last thread to come to her. Especially after refusing before.

"How long do I have?" She asked eventually, the 'before you loose your mind' on the tip of her tongue staying implicit.

"There's no set date. There might be one soon though, I'll let you know." Damn. Was someone pressuring him?

"Blackmail?" She blurted. He didn't answer, his gaze resolutely glued to a point above her shoulder. "Who?" She asked in a sudden surprising bout of anger.

"It's doesn't matter. I don't care." He droned. That was a lie. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have been there.

"I can help with that too you know." She answered warily.

"You'll do enough if you even read through this. I don't expect you to find anything anyway." He countered, his tone still oddly flat. He had no hope then. She knew better than to insist though, but wanted him to believe he could trust her, so she sighed:

"So little faith in me Malfoy it's disappointing." That little comment had the benefit to at least shadow the ghost of a smile on his mouth. It didn't last long.

"It's my father's doing." He said, as if it were the argument that put a definite end to the conversation. Just then, she saw something in his eyes. It flashed and then was gone, hidden. Despair. It clenched her throat.

"Any detail that might help?" She queried, knowing the answer already.

"I don't think so. It's all written there."

"If you think of anything just write."

"I'll do. Thank you." He then stood to go and just before he'd stepped outside her office she promised, out of nowhere:

"I'll find something Malfoy."

"Yeah." He said, his back still to her.

It took her a second after he left to decide that she wouldn't stop until she found something. He wasn't even hopeful. She presumed he'd come only because someone was using this against him. She'd find out who. She would.

No one should live without hope. And Malfoy looked so hollow. She'd make this right. He deserved it. He deserved it?

Yes, he did. He'd been stuck in this whole mess since the war. He'd had no respite. He'd been forced to handle the company, and his tarnished reputation. He'd been, again, forced to obey his scumbag of a father, even after the last was dead and six feet under. This oath, it even chose for him what kind of personal life he could live. It was ... Awful.

And now someone was trying to take advantage of him. How bad someone's life could be?

That man had lived under the same roof as Voldemort for Merlin's sake! She had to break it.

Hermione started reading right away and after only a few sentences she was already wondering how he hadn't burnt the whole company building down. After a few pages, she realised that it was specified that destroying the premises was one, forbidden, and two, if it ever were to happen accidentally the leader would have to find another location within three days.

This thing was far too detailed. Everything she thought about was countered in the next page. As if Lucius bloody Malfoy had thought of everything. In the precise order she thought of it.

It triggered her curiosity. Much more than anything else had before. This reeked or dark magic.

This reeked of Lucius Malfoy.

* * *

Tuesday, June 3rd, 2003.

Blaise found Astoria really busy when he opened the door to her flat, really late that evening. She'd written that she'd had a lot of work, and that if he came to pick her up, they'd kick him out.

Blaise was not stupid, contrary to popular belief apparently, and he had decided against bearing with the Ministry's security just to get kicked out right after.

Stori was reading a very long scroll when he entered, and she didn't even lift her face from it to acknowledge him. Scrolls and books were scattered all over the couch around her, even on the floor, and she seemed so deep in thoughts that he stared a bit at her raven hair and folded legs before finally clearing his throat.

"I'm almost done for tonight." She greeted, not even looking at him.

"You're done actually."

"No. Go to the kitchen there's wine." Which meant: pour me a glass I'm in over my head. Blaise obliged. She played dirty when she was drunk. When he came back she was shrinking the scrolls so they'd fit in her attaché-case. She sighed once she was done, and took the glass of wine he handed her before slumping back on the couch tiredly.

"Is my future fiancée giving you a hard time?" He asked, sitting next to her. She snuggled against him and didn't answer until she was comfortably crushing his left arm against the backrest. He didn't protest, he could paw her bosom.

"You didn't tell me that Draco had finally asked Hermione to break the oath." She said, ignoring his question entirely.

"How do you know?"

"He came at the department yesterday. I checked, his next control isn't for another five months."

"Err … They're not discreet."

"No, but who cares? Tracey won't ask and I already knew that it was only a matter of time."

"Still, they should be careful."

"Why?"

"Showing his face at the Ministry too often could make people suspicious."

"Of what? For all people know he's giving reports on investments or answering controls."

"Right. If you say so." Blaise concluded. Astoria didn't know about Pansy, she couldn't know that if it were to fall on Nott's of Flint's ears that Draco was seeing the head of Law Enforcement they would guess he was on them.

"Is it that awful? The oath I mean." She continued. "Hermione asked me to review all her notes on my own. She spent the afternoon locked in her office cursing, loudly. I could hear from my office."

"Err … It has to be. It's Lucius' work. "

"You never read it?" She startled, turning to him and crushing his arm even further into the couch, bosom out of reach and all.

"No, he never let me. Said there was nothing to be done anyway, that he'd have found it if there were a loophole." She nodded thoughtfully and turned back to her previous position, her head settling under his chin. He grabbed her left breast possessively.

"Well, it is well-known that you don't live up to Hermione's cleverness." She said after a moment. He couldn't see the smirk but he knew it was there.

"Yes, but then no one really is." He said, lowering his face to murmur in her ear: "I've got a few assets Granger lacks severely though." She chuckled.

"Oh, and what would those be?" She breathed in a soft voice.

"Finish your drink and you'll find out." She didn't bother.

* * *

Thursday, June 5th, 2003.

Hermione woke up with a start. She was curled up on her sofa, a scroll on her face. The first thought that came to her mind as she pushed away the offending piece of paper, was how she hated Lucius Malfoy. How she was so frustrated that he'd died, for she couldn't kill him herself.

Hermione had spent the last four days peeling off the contract Malfoy had brought her.

It was dark magic, it was an evolving piece of monstrous dark magic.

The man, no, the monster had inflicted that on his own son. How could someone do that to his own son?

She snorted for herself. Lucius Malfoy had let his son take the same Mark as he had, he'd invited the darkest wizard of all times in his home, raised his son in prejudice, maimed, killed and tortured people. It wasn't really surprising that his own interest, his bullshit blood-line had mattered more than his own flesh and blood.

Still, Lucius Malfoy was lucky he was dead.

Hermione didn't have a satisfying solution to Malfoy's ordeal. She had dug a way to play it but it had too many variables. She had to find something else. Something that would break the contract without Draco having to suffer more consequences.

She just had to.

It was all she could think about. Until she reached Tracey's desk that morning. The witch was already there, and apparently she had a lot to do:

"Morning." She greeted. "The PM came by five minutes ago, he said that the Montgomery case you're working on is a priority. He's dropped the last report from the Auror's office and the man is accused of a lot more than before. You should read it. Astoria shouldn't be long." Hermione grabbed the report from her hands, and started perusing it. Dear Merlin.

"I see. How did you know to come early?"

"I didn't come for that. I've seen you were both really busy since Monday and I wanted to get ahead on paperwork to help you but …" She frowned, well, more than usual.

"What?"

"Well it seems that the case has leaked in the press and we're receiving a ton of letters from idiots that feel like their opinion is important."

"Err … Could you …"

"Already on it. If there's anything that seems relevant I'll let you know." Thank Merlin for Tracey Davis.

"Thank you."

"I'm only doing my job." She shrugged, returning to the pile of mail she'd been reading through.

It didn't take long until Hermione was joined by an equally exhausted Astoria Greengrass, though the state of her hair made her wonder whether it resulted from work or being worked upon.

* * *

Draco closed the door behind him and sat at his desk. His assistant, whom he still didn't know the first name, had given him a letter that morning.

A letter from Nott senior.

Draco dreaded what could be inside. If they'd been wrong and Pansy had told them about their little encounter, that letter would be asking for a meeting, so the blackmail could start.

If by chance, she hadn't, it meant that they were getting impatient. He still hadn't given them an answer to their proposition. He'd been buying some time for Granger to find something.

Even though he knew it was useless to hope, he still had a little faith in her brains. Very little faith, it was his father's work after all. She could be as brilliant as she wanted, his father had been too.

And she hadn't written. Blaise had told him that she'd been working on it, but that he didn't know a thing since she'd kept her word and hadn't told Greengrass about it. The pretty witch had figured it out all by herself. Nosey she was.

Draco took a deep breath, and opened the letter.

A delay. They were giving him a week to answer their proposition, pretexting having other opportunities to invest their money in. He had to send his counter-proposition before next Thursday. Shit. He had a week left. A week and then they'd probably come knocking at his office door, asking for whatever crossed their minds.

His only exit was to break the oath.

Not having heard from Granger was nerve wrecking. After answering Nott that he was considering their proposition seriously, and that they'd receive his answer in time, he took a drink. It was only nine o'clock, things were going back to what they were before.

No, after pushing the glass away, he grabbed his quill and wrote to Granger.

* * *

Hermione only reached her front door around midnight that night. She could hear noise from the landing. A strong impression of déjà-vu took her as she remembered Malfoy's owl breaking an useless vase.

She hadn't left the window open this time though. She yanked the door open, and found her own owl, which she still hadn't named, ululating like a banshee at the window, where Malfoy's owl was furiously tapping its beak on the glass.

She sighed and lowered her wand, thanking her cautious brain for warding the place against muggles and eventually opened the window. His owl was disdainful. It landed on her shoulder, beaked her ear angrily, and flew away as soon as she'd freed his paw from the letter.

Sodding little thing.

Her own little thing settled on her lap once she'd sat on her couch to open the letter. It looked at her expectantly and she started petting it with a hand as she accioed a treat with the other. She gave it to the small bird, and it nestled against her belly.

She really needed to name it.

Which wasn't as important as the letter she'd put next to her on the couch. She opened it.

 _Granger,_

 _Have you found the time to read the file I brought you? If so, could we meet? I'd like to help._

 _D Malfoy_


	28. Chapter 28

Friday, June 6th, 2003.

Draco had received Granger's answer the previous night, around one o'clock. Thank Salazar Blaise had stayed at Greengrass' that night. Receiving an owl from Granger this late would have triggered a lot of unwanted and disgraceful comments from the lad.

Draco had been trying not to get drunk the only way he knew how, and, if working like a madman did take a lot of concentration - thus keeping his urge to down firewhiskey from a crystal glass in a corner of his mind where he could forget about it - it still had the notorious side-effect to add layers upon layers of irritability to his now constant state of near madness. So, her quick note had come with an unexpected, but welcome, calming effect on his nerves.

The slight relief had been short-lived though. She'd written that she'd read the oath, but that what she'd found wasn't satisfying. It still implied she'd found something, and it had been all he'd been able to think about ever since. And after a full night _and_ a full day of trying to guess what it was she'd found, satisfying or not, he was back to being a wreck.

Now, he'd just passed the security at the Ministry, and hoped that he wouldn't cross Greengrass on his way to Law Enforcement atop everything else. It was seven o'clock but Blaise whined about his girlfriend staying late at work enough that she could still be in there.

Draco took the lift without seeing anyone he knew and reached an empty secretary desk. Good. He went around it, and stopped at the end of the corridor, before Granger's door. He knocked and was answered by her muffled voice:

"Come in." He did quickly before anyone could poke his head out of their office.

If he hadn't been coming with a dreadful sensation that twisted his guts, he would have laughed. The office was a complete mess. There were files, books and scrolls of parchment all over the place and Granger seemed to be trying to write on two scrolls simultaneously. What was really funny though, even if he didn't find it in him to actually laugh, was Granger herself.

Her hair to be precise.

She'd apparently tried to keep the mass out of the way and had packed it carelessly atop her head, in what looked like a giant nest made of straw. Strands of frizzy hair poked out of it from everywhere and when she lifted her face to him, they jiggled awkwardly.

She looked utterly exhausted. Which was another reason why he didn't laugh. Her face and her late answer the previous night and Draco realised she'd been working days and nights. He only hoped it wasn't because of him.

"Sit. I'll only be a minute." He nodded, and did as told. She finished her sentence on one of the scrolls and, without using her wand, muttered something under her breath. Her notes rearranged themselves. Draco blinked a few times in an astonishment he hoped she wouldn't notice.

"What's that charm?" He couldn't help but ask though.

She answered without looking at him: "Organising charm. You write all you want to include and it sorts it through in categories. Useful but not entirely reliable. I'll need to check it later." She grabbed her wand then, and banished the mess to a small table by the little window at her right. The scrolls and files arranged themselves in two neat piles and the books went back to a bookshelf he hadn't noticed behind her.

"So." She said, opening the one file that still laid in front of her. She grimaced before continuing: "This is horrific." That wasn't really encouraging. She kept going before he could comment: "I read it whole, at least ten times. Has anyone else read it?" She asked, finally looking at him.

"No."

"So you didn't notice that it was an evolving contract?" She cringed, wariness even in her frown.

"A what?" He asked and she growled, looking even more drenched. Eventually she took a deep breath and explained:

"Err … It means that it evolves according to certain events. It adapts." Of course it did. Of course.

* * *

Hermione watched his face discompose for a fraction of a second. Obviously this came as a surprise to him. A bad surprise. He composed himself quickly though, as usual, and said:

"Really? It never changed …"

"Because your situation never changed either." She explained. "As I read it, each time I thought of something to counter it, details developed under each point."

"Wh … Fuck."

His blank mask slipped away, the information apparently too much for his self-control. Hermione understood his distress though and let him gather himself before continuing: "Exactly what I thought. Although it's not totally a bad thing. It can be both a disadvantage and an advantage."

"How? If it adapts it must cover everything ..." He countered, trying to pull back his mask but his sudden torment was still visible in his eyes.

"Let me explain please. It's ... Terribly precise. Especially about means to destroy the company, so I outed that option. _But_ there's only one other thing about which this is really precise too, it's the heir." Hermione opened the contract and turned a few pages to show him. "See, the entire section here is all about your heir, his err … _training_ ," She didn't even try to hide her distaste at the word, what she thought of Lucius' idea of educating children shouldn't stay a secret, even to his son. "How to pass the company on etc. But there's a flaw. Look," She turned a few more pages. "Here, the only detail required for a wife, is suitable. Any means as to get her to marry you, for instance, are carefully not precise. You could bribe her or even threaten her for all I know the contract wouldn't move. I know that there isn't so many pure-bloods available these days, and I could bet my hand that if all of them were to marry, the contract would erase suitable and manage a way to write half-blood subtly. But it could take years and it's not solving the problem." She paused to take a breath. He seemed to be reflecting on that.

"I don't see where you're going …" He finally frowned.

"There's nothing required from a wife except that she should be suitable. You could intentionally marry a woman who's err … infertile."

"So I couldn't produce an heir? How does that solve …" His eyes widened as he understood: "Oh, it evolves! You think I could pick …"

"Possibly."

"You're not certain though." He deflated.

"No. But I'm pretty sure your father wouldn't want his line to end with you."

"Sure." He nodded. "So, I would need a woman unfortunate enough to not be able to bear children."

He blanched all of a sudden. Hermione felt something drop at the pit of her stomach. Damn, the look on his face. So, he'd added one and one. He'd understood her argument with Harry after all. He knew. What was she supposed to say? He seemed frozen, his face contorted in something close to anguish, his grey eyes wide on her. Hermione swallowed and decided to continue as if nothing, berating herself for the trembling in her voice:

"Or old enough. I think it would allow you to pick the heir, adopt or simply give it to a relative. If you were infertile it would have saved a lot of trouble you wouldn't need to get married and could possibly pick the heir but ..."

"But I'm not." He cut quietly. His face still seemed as hard as a rock. Tenser than she'd ever seen it which was definitely saying something. She ignored it the best she could:

"Right. The contract would have moved if you were anyway. It's linked to you by blo …"

"I'm sorry." He cut abruptly before swallowing. Merlin no. They weren't there to talk about that, she never wanted to talk about that. Certainly not with him. He had an issue, and it was why he was there.

"To be fertile? That's a weird thing to be sorry about Malfoy." She tried, hoping he'd take the hint. He didn't.

"I .. no, I mean ... You …" He stumbled with his words, which gave her the opportunity to cut the matter.

"Don't. I don't want to talk about that. Plus it's nothing to do with your issue." She said, realising he would hear the pleading edge in her voice, and not liking it a bit.

"Right." He nodded sharply and after an awkward swallow, went back to the subject at hands: "So I should marry ... Or more likely bribe someone to marry me. Someone err … old as to choose my own heir then."

"Yes. But there's a possibility the contract will only allow you to adopt then, though if it's not precise enough you could adopt Blaise."

He chuckled to his apparent surprise. He frowned right after.

"Great. I'm off to find an old woman to bribe into marrying me so we can adopt Blaise and give him a company he doesn't want." He grunted bitterness strong in his voice.

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault." He dismissed, lowering his tormented eyes to his hands.

"Right. I'll keep working on it anyway but for now … it's all I could come up with."

He nodded, and rubbed his face in his hands. The sight was painful. Hermione turned from it and pretended to fuss with the file, to let him collect himself without feeling her gaze. After a moment, he spoke in a thick voice:

"How am I supposed to find someone infertile anyway?" He sounded defeated, his face was defeated. He wasn't hiding anything from her any more. It was just awful, she needed to find something else. She needed to work on that sodding Montgomery case too. But his eyes were so … she couldn't turn away from them. The sometimes steel grey was now more a cloudy colour, swirling with things Hermione couldn't place. He seemed to notice her sudden worry and added, the joking tone not convincing:

"You don't happen to know a club for the elderly?" It still made her stifle a laugh.

"Publish an add on the prophet." She suggested. He rolled his eyes:

"Very good idea. Way to keep this silent." She cringed at his bitterness:

"I'm sorry. Trying to play it is the only loophole I found. Yet. I mean it's clever, but magical. There's no brain behind it, it only reacts to certain events and possibilities. The ones your father thought about only. It can be tricked but it won't be pleasant anyway."

"Fantastic." He scowled.

"I'm sorry …"

"Don't be. It's not your fault."

He smiled then but Hermione could see he was faking it. She should probably try to control her face too. It clenched her heart that her only solution was a forced marriage that could _perhaps_ allow him to choose to whom he'd pass the company. If someone was pressuring him, she'd have to come up with better.

She knew he noticed right away her mental ordeal.

What he said next, obviously only to lighten the mood, was proof enough and brought silence between them for a very awkward second:

"Would be easier if you'd just marry me." Shock registered on his face right away. When he lifted a hand to slap his forehead in sudden horror, Hermione burst out laughing. This was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. He was quick to join her, having apparently realised she hadn't taken it wrong. She managed to collect herself after a moment of uncontrollable giggles, that surely had been brought up more by her state of nerves, than by his mediocre and somehow unthoughtful joke.

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline the offer." She chuckled. He pleated his eyes uneasily, pinching his lips together and she continued: "I hardly fall under the suitable category anyway, the oath wouldn't allow it. Plus, according to witch weekly I'm currently poisoning Blaise for a proposal."

"Shame. We could have been the perfect little family." He grimaced.

"You and I, adopting Blaise?" They both had trouble keeping a serious face again. "That's the weirdest thing someone has ever said to me." He seemed to agree. "No, you saying that it would be _easier_ to be married to me, was the weirdest thing I've ever heard." She corrected.

He blinked.

"I said no such thing."

"Yes, you did."

"Shit, I did." She chuckled and mocked:

"I knew you liked me ferret." He froze and she burst out laughing again.

* * *

Blaise heard the laughter from Astoria's office door. They both looked at each other questioningly, Astoria forgetting to pack her scrolls a minute.

"Is that … ?"

"Draco?" He finished. She blinked a couple of times.

"I didn't even hear him come." She scowled and then her eyes widened: "You think she found something?"

"Maybe."

"Well, they seem to be having a good time anyway." She smirked. Blaise pricked his ears for a few seconds and then said:

"Not any more. And I'm not questioning him." He warned with a finger pointed to her face, as she opened her mouth:

"Right, right. He'll tell you if she's found something anyway."

"Yes."

"We should have a drink with them again. To celebrate. Or cheer him up." She offered.

"Not tonight though, I have other plans for tonight." He answered, taking a step to her and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. She bit her lip before asking:

"And for breakfast?"

"I've got a few plans for breakfast too." He purred. She giggled. She would be the end of him.

"Good. My mother's charity is next week-end by the way. You're invited." Oh damn she would. But not the way he'd first thought.

"Err …"

"As a friend, don't get your knickers in a twist, I planned on inviting Hermione too and maybe …" She shut her mouth abruptly as the door to Granger's office opened and they both listened to what was obviously the end of their conversation.

* * *

Draco guessed he'd deserved the mockery, after pulling such an atrocious joke. He didn't even understand how she hadn't yelled at him. He'd just used her ... issue? to make a joke, in a pitiful attempt to ease her worry. What an idiot. She stopped laughing abruptly, cutting his train of self-depreciating thoughts, and seemed to reflect on her laughter a moment. Then she scowled:

"I think I spend way too much time with your sodding best friend."

Draco forced a chuckle, and took the opportunity to change the subject:

"Zabinis are hard to get rid of. Once they got a hand on you, they grip like leeches and never let go." He explained.

"Err … I hope he'll keep that for Astoria." She grimaced. She was probably the only woman on earth completely unaffected by Blaise's looks.

Draco shook his head and she smiled, that small anguished smile she'd sported since he'd arrived. She'd laughed just a moment before, and now she was fidgeting with a corner of a page from his oath, her brown gaze slowly blurring as she looked at nothing above his shoulder. She was thinking again, he knew it, she was trying to find something else.

She'd found something already even if it wasn't 'satisfying', and it was already more than what Draco had expected. Of course, he'd already decided that he'd never marry anyone in the hopes that the contract would move. If it only allowed him to adopt a kid, he'd end up at the exact same point as before, plus the bribed gold digger wife.

It was when her frown deepened that he realised that she was as stuck as he was. She didn't know what to do and he felt a burning wave he had trouble containing, threaten to burst from behind his eyelids. The words left his mouth in a plaintive tone he didn't have the courage to fight:

"I was right, there's really nothing I can do."

She snapped out of it at once and lifted a hand to him. It stayed awkwardly, hesitantly, in the air while she spoke:

"Yes there is Malfoy. I'll keep working on it and in the meantime … Go for older … With a little luck you'll be allowed to choose ..." She tried and as Draco didn't find a word to answer that, her mouth screwed in something he decided not to define, and she lowered her lifted hand to his arm. "I'm sorry, I haven't found anything else yet ..."

"I know. I know." He tried to reassure as soon as her small hand squeezed his sleeve-covered forearm. He closed his eyes then, trying to push away the sudden agonising pang he felt at having Hermione Granger, of all people, trying to comfort him. He passed his hand in his hair, forcing her to withdraw hers from his arm, and tried to ignore the sudden loneliness that threatened to engulf him but failed miserably.

It was a sharp pain, loneliness, especially when facing someone who was as helpless as he was but still trying to help in vain.

It suddenly became all too much, all he wanted to do was crawl in a hole and never get out. And he didn't need Granger to see him like that, he'd displayed too much already, so he stood. The look on her face told him she could see how he felt and as she opened her mouth to say something he spoke first:

"Thank you Granger." He said, and turned his back on her. As he grabbed the doorknob, she snapped:

"You'll thank me when the oath is broken." Draco didn't find anything to say to that, there was something in her voice. Something fierce and so terribly Granger that he was left speechless. The door was already open and he was taking his first step out of her office when she added:

"I'll find something." A strong determination poured from her voice, some sort of bravery that told him she wouldn't stop until she did. Maybe she would. Maybe she would.

"I hope you will." He murmured, not turning back to her, and then went away.

* * *

Hermione watched his retreating back, feeling suddenly filled with a determination she hadn't felt in years. She'd been about to reopen the file containing the oath when he stopped just before the door closed after him.

She frowned, and stood. Blaise and Astoria were there, the last sporting an uneasy smile that told Hermione they'd been eavesdropping.

"Greengrass." Malfoy mumbled, clearly not in the mood for small talk. Hermione couldn't blame him.

"Just when I wanted to see you." Astoria started.

"Really?" He droned, starting on her left to go. Hermione took a step out of her office.

"Yes, my mother's hosting a charity party next Saturday. You're invited." Astoria said, making him stop in his tracks.

"Oh. Err …" He grimaced, apparently distracted.

"Hermione's coming too!" She grinned and Hermione berated herself inwardly for being curious. She should have stayed in her office.

"Am I?" She asked, joining them.

"Yes. My mother asked I invited some of my friends. Blaise is coming."

"Err … I don't have any robes, I'll have to pass." She pretexted quickly under Malfoy's frowning gaze.

"We'll find some. You could come with Draco." Both of them blinked. Malfoy was quicker to react:

"I don't think so …" He grimaced and Hermione could only agree with his sudden discomfort:

"Me neither." She said.

"Why? You two get along well enough." Astoria protested.

"We're not that friendly." Malfoy said and Hermione corrected:

"We're _barely_ friendly." He nodded in agreement.

"Right, and I'm ugly." Both ignored Blaise and as Astoria started to frown Malfoy concluded in a clipped tone:

"I'm not coming Greengrass."

"Oh but you _are_." She ordered.

"And why would I inflict myself so much pain?" He retorted.

"Because you like me." She snapped.

"Since when?"

"Since you've got good taste Malfoy and I'm pretty. You're coming." She said in a final tone. Malfoy turned a supplicating gaze to Hermione then, which she had to admit was funny. She couldn't argue with Astoria on her being pretty though, so she shrugged:

"Well, she is pretty." He scowled and gave her a glare that said 'seriously?'

"See? Now you two are coming together." At those words, Hermione realised what point she'd just pushed and it was her turn to scowl:

"Err …" Malfoy's glare softened, but it still told her 'you're an idiot'.

" _Why?_ " He argued.

"Let's settle on just going." Hermione compromised as Astoria was about to retort. The pretty witch closed her mouth then and after a few seconds where Hermione thought she'd resolved the argument, she turned to Blaise with a smirk:

"What do you say you go with Hermione and I go with Draco?" Blaise blinked and then understanding made his eyes grow wide:

"And show those bints from Witch Weekly that I'm not a moron?" Malfoy snorted loudly and Hermione had to slap her mouth with her hand to muffle an ugly snicker. Which only got them both a glare in answer.

"Or that Hermione _doesn't_ poison people." Astoria continued. Hermione had been about to pretest that she didn't care, but she deflated right away and sighed instead. Malfoy seemed as resigned as she felt, Astoria was a persistent woman. It was useless to argue. As the bickering couple started to plan out their Saturday afternoon, Malfoy growled, and Hermione grimaced in his general direction.

He went to round the couple and go, but stopped and turned to Hermione after only a step:

"Owl if you find anything I can help with."

"I will." She nodded, and as he took a step away, she took one back to her office, she had an oath to break.

 **A/N:** I don't really like to put notes like that but since I have a few things to tell you, I'd better do it fully with a long and polluting paragraph!

First, I wanted to thank you all for the reviews, follows, favourites. It's huge to me, I really enjoy reading your speculations and comments, so thanks a lot!

Also I wanted to let you know that I'm working on - at least - three other dramione stories (a dark one, a romance, and one I have no idea how to define). The dark one - which doesn't have name yet - will probably be out in November.

Second, I'm going to move the two last Epistolary (II and III) to the first one to make a series of one shots (I've got too many ideas to keep posting them separately).

And lastly, I'm probably going to edit the world is upside down, and rewrite the end. I'm not happy with how it turned out, it feels botched.

Thank you all again, hope you enjoy your reading as much as I enjoy writing (even if it's full of mistakes).

Lucie.


	29. Chapter 29

Monday, June 9th, 2003.

Hermione had spent her entire week-end exhausting her brain over Malfoy's sodding contracted oath, for nothing. That wicked piece of intricate trash had kept enlarging. Every time she'd thought of something else to play it, Lucius Malfoy had thought of it too and thoroughly detailed the path by which his son would probably loose his mind. How he hadn't already, remained a mystery.

By Monday afternoon, Hermione had practically pulled her hair off her skull in frustration.

Nothing was to be done. They couldn't play it otherwise, the sole flaw, the only detail he'd neglected, was the wife. _Suitable_. Despicable. Evil, evil man. And his son …

He'd looked so terribly desperate when she'd told him. So fatally dejected. So lonely.

It wouldn't do. It just wouldn't.

She'd find something. Anything. She would.

She needed that authorisation to access the Ministry's archives, so she'd sent a request. No pretext, just a request of access. Her position might help, perhaps she'd be lucky.

She growled at the scattered pages laying on her desk. It was tremendously horrid.

She'd always worked for fairness, always tried to do what was right, for the right reasons, sometimes even breaking the codes and rules to make sure things were fair.

Then, they just weren't. And she couldn't quite grasp the reason why she was so determined to find a solution to Draco Malfoy's ordeal, but she knew it felt so very different from any other case she'd worked on.

She'd been detached emotionally from the others. Then, she just couldn't detach herself from the whole thing. It felt personal. Draco and she had so much history, whether they'd been on different ends of the same thread for years, they still had a past in common. A war.

War did odd things to people.

She felt somehow linked to Draco Malfoy. And she'd probably have even if he'd stayed the petty little bully she'd once known. But she felt even more so to the man she'd met again, the man she'd talked with, that witty and clever man she'd enjoyed the company of. The Draco Malfoy who'd defended her.

How disturbing. It was definitely an unexpected turn of events, something even Trelawney wouldn't have bet on.

And it wasn't even the worst – although it depended on one's priorities, but Hermione's number one was supposed to be work – the worst was that she'd neglected her work.

The thought only occurred to her when Tracey took the time to bring her a note from Kingsley, at the end of the day. He told her to be ready, that they were setting the date for the Montgomery trial, and that's the exact moment reality slapped her right across the face.

She was supposed to _work_.

She quickly stacked the oath away and jumped out of her chair. Malfoy would have to wait.

She ran to the lift, berating herself for letting her emotions, Merlin no, her compassion maybe, take over what had always been her number one priority.

She confessed it to herself, from the intimacy of a secluded corner of her mind: it was the first time in her life that she neglected her work for anyone.

She hadn't once, even for Ron.

Kingsley's office was empty when she reached it. His secretary told her that he was at Mysteries. She ran back to the lift, and went down there.

When she reached the floor, she got lucky. Kingsley was just out of the courtroom, and even if he looked positively enraged, he greeted calmly:

"Oh, Hermione."

"So? The date?" She asked. He had a sudden flash of nervousness when the door to the courtroom opened, but it vanished so quickly she wondered if she hadn't hallucinated. He walked to her, indicating the lift with a hand and blocking her view.

"You could have sent a note." Indeed, and actually, she should have. But she felt like her presence was somehow disrupting something and tried to peer over his shoulder – tried being the key word here – as he put a hand on hers, slightly pushing her back in the lift. He kept going: "It's just been settled. It'll start next Tuesday. Are you ready?"

"Not nearly." She growled, as he called her floor in the lift. "What's going on?"

"Nothing important." He said blankly but just when the door to the lift started to close, his shoulders slumped just enough for her to catch sight of Arthur Weasley going out of the same courtroom. He seemed as angry as Kingsley had and it definitely meant something was going on.

"Why is Arthur here then?"

"For a case of improper use of magic. Nothing too important, but muggles were involved." He explained in one of his tones that didn't leave place for further questioning. Hermione wasn't dupe though, he'd looked too bland for it to be harmless. He could know her all he wanted, she knew him too.

On the ride back she wondered what had really brought Arthur to Mysteries. She knew all too well that the Weasley patriarch hated this floor, for reasons that involved Order's missions interrupted by giant snakes. She remembered her own first trip down there, it had been chaos. Running from room to room, ducking curses, shooting hexes in the dark …

Her train of thoughts stopped abruptly. There'd been a locked door they hadn't been able to open back then. Now she knew what it contained, even if she'd never been allowed in. The department had a full room of confidential documentation that Unspeakables kept locked at all times.

And they worked on all sorts of things! On magic itself! Yes! Maybe there was a way to break the magic itself, instead of trying to counter the evil thing!

Why hadn't she thought of that sooner? Deconstructing the magic.

Probably because it was nearly impossible. It was dark magic. Blood magic even. Tricky. Brilliant if she achieved it.

Maybe if she found a pretext to access their documents she could find a way to break the oath.

And if there was a way, it was either hidden in Mysteries, either in hell. She had to try.

That she would never admit, even to herself, but once they were back in her office with Kingsley, she thought about that pretext instead of listening to his comments about her notes, Arthur's presence down there completely slipping her mind.

* * *

Wednesday, June 11th, 2003.

Draco tipped his head back and swallowed the whole content of his glass in one gulp. The liquor burned his throat from the tongue to the stomach. He tried to repress the wince. Granger had a gift he'd never been given.

His owl was ready, waiting for him to tie the letter to its lifted paw. Draco eventually took a deep breath and tied it. The owl took off through the open window a second after.

The warm air didn't help his state of nerves. He preferred the cold winter and the snow to the warm winds and the burning sun that kilned his fair skin and blinded his eyes. He wished it'd be winter, for his last days of relative freedom. Good thing he didn't have the contract on hand, his already burnt desk wouldn't have survived another one of his _tamper tantrums_.

The counter-proposition he'd just sent, at the very last minute, would look desperate, even to a regular investor. He offered them ninety per cent of the shops, in exchange for their investment.

No shares in the company.

If Blaise and he were right, his next correspondence with Nott would determine how he'd definitely loose his mind.

Would they simply write asking for a meeting? Or would they show up at his office? Blaise's place received owls, they could even write there. They could find him, they could ask for whatever they wanted, wands pointed at his throat.

Not knowing was actually worse than anything else. Anticipating was nerve-wrecking.

How long would they leave him to gather whatever it was they wanted?

How long could he push them until they told everyone about the oath?

He didn't know, but he'd push them as far as he could. He would try to give Granger as much time as possible.

It'd seemed doomed, the moment she'd told him that it was an evolving contract. But … _I'll find something else._ Those words had kept replaying in his head, over and over again, until now that he'd sent his counter-proposition.

Now, he regretted having turned his back on her at that moment. That something in her voice, that hint of strong will, of sharp stubbornness, of fierce almost dangerous determination, had kept echoing in his head. It woke something in him.

Something that made him push his glass away, swallow back his nerves, and quit standing by the events, cowardly floating in self-pity. Something that made him stand, and go out in direction of the Manor.

He'd help her. If he could only bring her a tiny detail, anything that might help, he would, whether she'd asked or not. He'd already reviewed the library a thousand times but never with her knowledge of the oath and, of course, she'd found more in less than a week than he had in years, proving yet again how brilliant she was. It was _Hermione Granger_ after all.

And if she'd said she'd find something, there was close to no doubts that she would.

People who doubted the 'never lost a case' head of department, people who called her a coward for instance, were utter morons.

Even he, whose only feeling for the woman had been contempt for almost seven years of school, knew that.

That he would never have admitted, even to himself, a month before, when all he'd known about her had been a blurred picture of the truculent little know-it-all with bushy hair he'd shared classes with, but now, as he knew the brilliant woman better, or at least was getting to know her, he realised that if someone asked him right then to choose in whose hands to put his future, it would be hers, without hesitation. Because he trusted her, as she'd said he could.

And the warmth he'd felt at her words, _I'll find something else_ , it was hope. She'd given him hope.

Or he'd just lost his mind for good, which was a plausible theory too.

* * *

Thursday, June 12th, 2003.

Hermione put the final dot to her long scroll. That piece of evidence was thoroughly reviewed. She sighed, and Astoria, who had taken domicile in her office for the day, lifted her head. She nodded, grabbed the scroll from Hermione's hands, and tucked it under the one she was currently annotating, without a word.

Hermione grabbed the next piece of evidence and went back to work.

Both women jumped sometime after the brief exchange of glances when a note came flying around, and irritatingly tangled in what had been Hermione's failed attempt at a top knot.

Her request to access the Ministry archives had been granted. It wasn't Mysteries but it was still a step. Hermione snatched the oath from her drawer, ready to go, but stopped abruptly, her eyes on what she'd been doing before.

"Just go." Astoria hadn't even lifted her face from her reading. Hermione didn't need more convincing. She practically ran out of her office, Malfoy's oath under her arm, to the fifth floor.

She spent as little time as she could in the archives, but it still took her two hours to choose the documents and records that might be helpful. She retrieved those, hoping no one would come and ask questions, and went back to her office to get back to work.

Astoria was half-way through her last scroll. When Hermione sat, not even bothering to hide the documents she'd brought back, the pretty messy-ponytailed witch eyed her as she pushed them aside to return to work.

"I can review that on my own." She said, her eyes back on what she'd been reading. When Hermione didn't react, she sighed: "I don't need you for that." Which meant just what Hermione had thought but hadn't believed. She was giving her time to work on Malfoy's case.

"Thank you."

"Seems important to you." She shrugged. Hermione decided not to comment.

They spent the rest of the afternoon working silently. Well, except from the occasional groaning when Hermione didn't find anything remotely useful in her documents. She needed to access Mysteries.

At precisely six o'clock, Astoria slapped her closed scroll on the desk, making Hermione jump.

"You need a break." She affirmed.

"I don't do breaks."

"You can't work properly if you're exhausted."

"If that were true, I wouldn't be here." Huffed Hermione.

"Alright, then, _I,_ Astoria Greengrass, not a first choice swot, neither the brightest witch of my sodding age, need a break. Your notes are reviewed, and those documents useless. That's enough for today."

"But …"

"But Draco can wait until you're back home Hermione. Don't even try to pretend you don't work at night, you look like _shit_." That was nice to hear, true or not.

"Well, thank you very much." Hermione grunted bitterly.

"Welcome." She smirked. "Let's take a walk, I could use the air." Hermione didn't even try to argue.

They gathered their papers, and left the office slowly. Tracey waved them goodbye with a small smirk, eyeing the clock. Hermione decided not to thank Merlin for Tracey Davis that day. That she certainly looked like shit, and that Astoria's hair was messy - which was annoyingly the only visible sign of her exhaustion - didn't matter. Tracey wasn't supposed to point it out.

Once they were out of the Ministry and in the surprising hot air, Astoria offered:

"We could go buy that set of robes you liked before the store closes?"

"Err … Now?"

"When then?" Good point. Still, now? Hermione dreaded even the thought of having to enter the shop.

"It's too expensive Astoria." She tried. Astoria's lack of conviction was more than evident without her voicing it, but she did anyway:

"Cause you use your money for … ?" That was a valid argument. Hermione hadn't touched her vault except for food and rent in quite some time.

"Alright," She started, "But no trying on, no …"

"You won't need to, you gave your measurements last time, remember? It won't take more than five minutes." Astoria cut with a lifted palm, chuckling.

"Oh, right."

"Were you afraid I'd take you on a shopping spree?" Astoria smirked.

"Kinda." Hermione grimaced, remembering all too well Christmas shopping with Ginny. She had to repress a shudder.

"I was messing with you the other time. I don't have time for shopping."

"Good." Hermione nodded, but then Astoria frowned:

"It pains me that you'd think I'm some kind of brainless and superficial witch more interested in clothing than work …"

"I never said that!"

"See? Messing with you. Too easy. Maybe you were sorted right after all." That smirk was too happy. Plus, Hermione was too tired to even pull a better comeback than:

"Very funny."

She scowled when they reached the Leaky Cauldron. The place was full, as usual. They ducked through the mass of loud patrons, and ended up, none other than eight minutes later, in the equally hot air of Diagon Alley. Hermione realised at Astoria's frown that they also had that in common: they didn't like crowds.

It caught her eyes this time. She'd been watching in front of her, trying to ignore passers-by that could possibly remember the Witch Weekly article and it was just there, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The bright orange shop had the lights off though, and a flashing sign indicated 'closed' on the door.

They passed it, Hermione lowering her face to her feet. George had asked Blaise, of all people, to remind her that he was still waiting for her visit.

She hadn't forgotten.

They reached Witchety and Hermione caught Astoria watching her thoughtfully. She sighed: "Blaise told you?" Knowing the answer already.

"Yes." The raven-haired witch paused, and after a few seconds of scrutiny, seemed to judge it safe to ask: "Are you going to see him?" Hermione answered without second thoughts:

"I don't know. I don't want him to end up arguing with his family because of me."

"They'd do that?" Astoria's doubtfulness reminded Hermione that the witch didn't know her ex-mother-in-law.

"Molly never approved. Besides, they're all just persuaded I'm some sort of coward for leaving him."

"Nice people." She grunted disapprovingly.

"George is." Hermione said in a soft voice. He was.

"Mm. Blaise said he didn't seem that bad." Her friend shrugged. "You could go."

"Maybe." Astoria didn't press the matter but Hermione suddenly couldn't think about anything else. George had asked she came around. Twice. Maybe she should take the olive branch he was offering. Maybe it would do her some good to find back an old friend who wouldn't judge. He'd talked to Blaise after all. She was still debating with herself when they entered Witchety clothing.

They were indeed out after only five minutes, but leaving Hermione with an unpleasant feeling of amputation. The set of robes had practically cost an entire pay-check.

They weren't back to the Leaky Cauldron yet, that Astoria put a hand on her mouth to hide a yawn. Maybe Hermione should ask about her glamour charms, the witch was definitely as tired as she was.

"I'm drenched. I'll head back home. Go try it on." She said, and Hermione must have made a face because she added with a roll of her eyes: "Or work."

"Work is more likely." The pretty witch shook her head with an expression Hermione had trouble defining.

"Malfoy better appreciate the dress Saturday." She scowled.

"Why?"

"Why?" Astoria shook her head again. "Never mind. See you tomorrow." And she disapparated away, leaving Hermione slightly confused as she disapparated too, to work on the oath at home.

* * *

Blaise read the note, not even surprised. Astoria was already in bed. Too much work. Shackelbolt just ended up on his top five of people he definitely despised. Getting Granger and Astoria to work together was the worst thing he could have done to him.

Pushing the note aside, Blaise sighed, no cuddling tonight. What? No, no shagging tonight. Err … That thought felt … dirty. In a bad way. Disrespectful. Cuddling. He was actually reduced to mourn cuddling with Astoria. When had that happened?

He sighed again, and wrote her a note, telling her that he'd give her a good reason to be exhausted the next night. Then he went out of his office to apparate back to his place, thinking it was the worst way to end the first working day of the week.

He opened his front door, still sighing dramatically, and froze.

Living with Draco Malfoy was dull. Nothing really happened. The lad was in bad place, and when he was not irate, he was either drunk or asleep. Well, there were bits and bouts of fun from time to time, but they occurred less and less these days.

It was the least to say that how Blaise found the lad that evening, he wasn't prepared for. Draco had brought work home before, actually he always brought work home, but it usually was in the form of a few files under his arm, and then he'd lock himself in his room.

Now though … The place was in total chaos. Draco was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, hair betraying intense pulling at it, tie abandoned on the back of the couch, shoes near the door.

He was surrounded with books and open scrolls, and was currently scratching his head with his quill.

"I knew it was only a matter of time, but you could have lost your mind somewhere else."

He didn't even blink.

"Draco?" Blaise took a wary step to his best-friend, as if approaching a rare specimen of a very dangerous magical specie. When the obviously crazy man kept reading, ignoring him completely, Blaise sat on the couch and grabbed one of the open scrolls that had landed there.

Oh.

"Granger sent these?" He asked. At the mention, the blond head finally noticed his host and bothered turning his gaze away from his reading.

"No. I made a trip to the Manor, yesterday." Really?

"Oh. Found anything yet?"

"No. Nothing. Or I should say too much. There's lots of nasty types of oaths."

"Err … do those explain how to get rid of them?" Draco snorted his answer derisively:

"As if. If nothing these specify how to make them worse."

"Fantastic."

"Indeed." He grunted, and went back to his reading. Blaise sighed, and lowered himself on the hard floor too, unbuttoned his cuff-links, rolled up his sleeves, and grabbed one of the books that was still closed.

"Marriage bonding? Why would you …"

"I might need it if we don't find anything before Nott decides it's time to empty my vaults."

" _Why?_ "

* * *

Draco sighed heavily, and leaned against the couch, letting drop the book from his hands to the floor. What was the point in keeping Blaise ignorant? Greengrass would find out eventually anyway. Nosey little thing.

Plus, he could use the help and to help, Blaise needed to know what to look for.

So he told him everything Granger had found, and ended with the marriage issue.

It wasn't fundamentally funny, at all, but truth was to say that the form was. He'd, himself, broken down in a fit of hysterical giggles thinking about it, the night after she'd told him. The fact that he'd almost cried right after he chose to pretend hadn't happened.

If he wanted to be rid of the company, and not by giving it to his own child, he had to marry an old lady. Or in Blaise's opinion:

"A cripple? You'd have to marry a cripple."

"Don't call her that."

"Who? Your future wife?"

"Not being able to bear children doesn't make you a cripple, Blaise." Scowled Draco. If only he knew about Granger.

"Well, actually, it does." Blaise insisted.

"How? It's not even visible."

"Magic mate." He said, looking at him as if he'd sprouted another head. "We are wizards. Witches can bear children."

"Some of them can't."

"Yes, the cripples." That word, again!

"Stop using that word!" He barked.

"Why?"

"Because it's not fucking funny!"

"Alright calm down!" Blaise started, lifting both his hands in surrender. "I was just trying to explain that when witches …"

"Well, _don't_." Draco snapped.

"What's gotten you?" Frowned Blaise.

"Nothing."

"Liar." Of course. Draco chose to ignore that:

" _Anyway_ , It's all she's found for now and clearly, I won't take the risk to marry anyone if we're not even sure I could pick the heir after. If I can only …"

"What's wrong?" Like he'd answer that. No, Draco wouldn't explain why the word cripple was everything but appropriate just then. He continued:

"If I can only adopt it would surely involve another child and …"

"Stop pretending you don't hear me." The lad wouldn't stop would he? Persistent leech.

"Alright. I hear you. And nothing's wrong." Draco finally answered.

"Except that you have to marry a cripple." Draco took a deep breath before answering, no need to give Blaise more clues. He'd already been a bit too obvious, Blaise knew that this word was the issue.

"I won't. And I was explaining why." Draco hissed between clenched teeth.

"Because it would be a weird shag?"

"Salazar, do you even hear yourself?" Draco couldn't believe his ears.

"I'm just trying to make you speak." Blaise shrugged as if nothing and Draco was starting to loose patience:

"About what? The oath? That's just what I was doing!"

"There's nothing else then?" He asked, one of his eyebrow drifting up suspiciously.

"Don't you think that's enough already?"

"Nah, you're a magnet to drama. You need a little …" Sweet Salazar he'd never stop. And Draco was not dramatic! Maybe he shouldn't say that. He sighed instead:

"I sent my counter-proposition just this morning." And thank Salazar, it worked.

"Damn. Alright. What's the plan now? Wait until he gives you a delay?"

"Yes."

"And then?"

"And then I hope she's found something."

"She will. She's said so." Blaise foretold.

"I hope so." Draco said truthfully.

"You don't think you should tell her now? About Nott I mean. If she thinks she's got time …" Blaise pressed, his previous annoying questioning forgotten.

"I won't give her a name, what if she decides to go after them?" Countered Draco.

"The press will start digging. Right." Blaise scowled and after a short pause, advised: "You should at least tell her that it's approaching dangerously though. If you think they'll wait a month to ask for whatever it is they want …" Yes, it was only a matter of days now.

"Yes. Right. You're right." Cut Draco.

"Oh am I?" Blaise smugness was back and he was smirking. "What else was I right about already? Oh, yes, asking Granger for help!"

"Shut up." Draco snapped, with no effect on Blaise whatsoever. "It's too late now anyway, I'll tell her tomorrow."

"You do that. Write her a little letter tomorrow. Just don't make it too long, we wouldn't want her to take _two hours_ to read it."

"Salazar do you ever stop being an arse?"

"No. And if you're not happy you can always move in with Granger."

"Oh my!" Blaise chuckled with a little too much enthusiasm:

"What? Wouldn't that be lovely? You could levitate forks together!"

"Fuck off!" That idiot burst out laughing. He stopped abruptly when Draco threw him a book.


	30. Chapter 30

Friday, June 13th, 2003.

Part one: Coincidental encounter.

Blaise had helped Draco read through the humongous pile of books he'd brought back from the Manor until late the previous night. They'd found strictly nothing.

That day, he let the paperwork pile up on his desk without even touching it. He'd brought the shrunk books at work and had tried to read as much as possible.

He'd jumped like a madman every time his secretary had knocked.

When she brought a sealed letter, around six o'clock, he suddenly felt like the world was ending. When he realised it was only a request from a supplier he slumped back in his chair, his nerves at the limit of snapping.

It was nothing important. It was not from Nott.

Neither from Granger.

He still had to tell her that they'd soon lack time, very soon, but didn't want to write at the Ministry. He'd do it once back at Blaise's, she'd get it after work this way. He knew she worked late. Blaise whined about that too. Apparently it was her fault if Greengrass always worked late too.

Sighing, he eyed the offencive pile of paperwork, but didn't shrink it when he did the books.

He had enough work with those for the entire week-end. Damn, charity.

Well, he had enough until Monday then.

He put all the now ridiculously small books in his pockets, and decided it was time to get out of this building.

Once home, and as he wasn't expecting Blaise to come home two nights in a row, he retrieved the books, sized them back, and sprawled them all over the carpet at the foot of the couch. Then, he summoned parchment, quill and ink and sat down before the mess.

He'd been about to open one of the books when something clacked on the window.

A tawny owl he thought he recognised was tapping its beak against the glass. Draco stood, opened the window, gave the bird a treat, and opened the letter.

It wasn't from Granger.

* * *

The week had passed in a working haze, Hermione only realised it was ending when Tracey bid them a good week-end on her way out. It was already Friday.

They'd made good progress on the Montgomery case, thanks mostly to Astoria's thorough reviewing of Hermione's work. Whereas the Malfoy issue was a dead-end. She'd read twice every document or record she'd brought from the archives, and had had to just bring them back there, with nothing much but vague details that might help. Little hints, things that had taken her attention with no apparent usefulness. She'd taken notes, as usual.

What she needed was to find a believable pretext to enter the Mysteries section. She still hadn't come up with any plausible idea. Although, maybe she could trick her way in … No. She was not a child any longer. She was a grown woman, head of the Law Enforcement department, divorced and all. Using a decoy detonator to create a diversion and enter the department would be the stupidest move she could pull.

They'd know instantly it was her. It wasn't public record that Harry had used one of those to get into Umbridge's office all those years before, but they'd definitely send an auror to investigate and well … _they_ would know.

Why was she even contemplating the idea?

Because it was the end of the week and she was exhausted. Mulling over and over the same ideas on this dreadful oath had drenched her. When was the last time she'd read a book just to read? Maybe she could do that, just that evening, and start over on a clearer mind the next morning? Err … charity. Right.

Plus she still had to bring her notes to Kingsley before going. Sighing, she stood to bid Astoria good evening, contemplating a time where they'd been reckless kids using Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes' products to solve their issues. George.

What time was it? Almost seven o'clock. The shop was about to close. Maybe she could go to George's. She'd thought about it the previous night and if he hadn't changed his habits, on Friday evenings, after closing, he did his accounting for the week. If she were lucky, he'd be at his flat above the shop, alone. She could go see him.

She dreaded what the conversation would be like, but she also knew that if she didn't follow her impulse, she might never do it. Right, she'd go that evening.

She went to Kingsley's office as Astoria fetched her things to go home but the Prime Minister apparently had an appointment when she arrived. She left a copy of her notes to his secretary, sealing it confidential, and, with a resolute step – that didn't match her state of nerves – walked out of the Ministry to go to the Leaky Cauldron.

There, she nodded quickly to Tom, ignoring the few looks she got from certain patrons and strode to the courtyard. Once in Diagon Alley, she hurried. The street was even more crowded than the previous night. Which she couldn't complain about, people didn't notice her in the flow of passers-by.

She caught sight of the closed shop quickly but was stopped in her tracks before reaching it, and by someone she'd rather not have met again in her entire life.

Pansy Parkinson was a couple of steps in the narrow street that lead to the apothecary. She was followed by a frowning Theodore Nott and of course, she noticed her.

"Look Theo, it's the mudblood." She sneered.

Hermione would have just kept walking past the street if the sodding bitch hadn't spoken, instead, she walked in to answer. It was the wrong night to provoke her. With Hermione's frustration always came recklessness.

* * *

When Blaise came back home that evening – after deciding that he could see Astoria the next day for the charity event, and had better help Draco work that evening instead, priorities and all – he found the lad frozen on the spot, a letter in his right hand, the other clenched on the kitchen counter in a death grip. The look of horror mixed with fear on his face was enough to alarm Blaise to the core.

He ran to the lad, and snatched the letter from his hands.

So, they'd guessed right. And Nott wouldn't play nice.

"Shit. You need to tell Granger. Now." He panicked.

A very small "Yes." answered him.

"I'll call her." Blaise decided, already bending over the fireplace to call Stori's office and ask for Granger. Astoria's surprised smile vanished as soon as she saw his expression.

"What's happened?" She urged, kneeling in front of the fireplace. Now was not the time to get distracted though.

"We need Granger. It's about Draco's oath."

"I knew you didn't tell me everything! Is it about him not being careful enough?"

"Pansy told Nott." Blaise cut, right to the point. It took her only a second to understand.

"Blackmail?"

"It's just starting." And now, he could see rage fill her face.

"That bitch. I'll fetch Hermione, your place." She practically stormed out of her office then.

Blaise returned to a very upset Draco, although he doubted anyone else could see right now. He'd screwed his face in an icy expression, but was pacing around the flat like an animal trapped in a cage. Ironic that he somehow was.

Astoria arrived only twenty minutes later, alone, panting, her hair a mess, beautiful.

"She's gone home, I'll try her place here." She hurried, kneeling in front of his fireplace, her arse in plain sight. Draco's issue seemed suddenly the least interesting thing about the evening, until the last started pacing again.

Where the hell was Granger?

* * *

Hermione didn't even try to contain her tone:

"How did you just call me?" She barked. The black-haired pug-nosed atrociously prejudiced bint didn't seem to take the hint:

"You heard." She dismissed calmly. "Has Blaise finally come to his senses and dumped you too?" Hermione chuckled, albeit bitterly, Pansy Parkinson had ways to anger her and then make her laugh by being stupid. It wasn't a surprise that such a vile excuse for a woman had believed their little play though.

"Actually we're very happy together." She gave in an horrid honeyed tone that reminded her of Judith. Everything to help her anger. "Thank you for showing concern." She added, her hypocritical smile hurting her cheeks.

"I don't understand him." Parkinson scoffed. At least she had the brain not to believe that Hermione was using a love potion. "What's he doing with _filth_ like you?" She spat, her big nose wrinkled upward.

Hermione took a deep breath, but her hand was already clutching her wand in her pocket when she mocked: "Enjoying himself?"

Parkinson snorted in a manly like fashion: "Blood traitor. Such a shame Draco never knew who to associate with."

"Well, at least it shows they're not prejudiced _scum_." Hermione was quick to retort, even if she didn't really see what Malfoy had to do with her supposed relationship with Blaise.

"It just shows how stupid Draco is." Malfoy again? "Too bad he didn't listen to me. Now he's going to …"

"Pans." Warned Nott. Hermione instantly felt like something was off. Nott, previously amused by the little 'banter' seemed about to hit the pug-nosed bint.

"He's going to what?"

"Regret it." She sneered, and Nott grabbed her arm.

"Shut up Pansy." He drawled. The warning in his voice would have shut Hermione up, but the witch seemed too angry to realise. Or maybe she just lacked the brain cells.

"Why? She's just a stupid mudblood." She barked at him.

"And the head of Law enforcement you bint." He hissed between clenched teeth, still gripping her arm.

"Who cares? It's not like she going to break …" He slapped her then. Hard. And suddenly, it clicked.

It all clicked, there weren't so many things Hermione was currently trying to break. She realised that Pansy must have known about the oath. She'd told Nott. Whom turned his enraged glare to Hermione but before he could retrieve his wand to obliviate her, she snatched hers out and spat:

"Expelliarmus." Both their wands flew in her hand and purely out of war reflexes, her heart beat racing, she pointed hers at them.

"You don't move or I'll have you arrested later." She warned. Nott looked dangerous. Hermione prayed he didn't try to jump on her. Parkinson was still cradling her cheek and started shaking in shock. Hermione got closer to them, eyes darting everywhere in search of possible witnesses, and when she didn't see any, walked to them until they stepped back further into the street, away from prying eyes, her wand not wavering from Nott's face.

When they were safely out of sight, she let her anger make small sparks shoot out the tip of her wand.

"Now, you two are going to listen to me very carefully." Her fury oddly turned her words to ice. "You are going to leave Draco alone, and his issue will stay a secret." Nott opened his mouth but she continued before he could say anything: "If you disobey, I'll have you both arrested, as well as your father Theo, oh, and Mr Flint. I'll keep those …"

"You can't." Spat Nott which only enraged her even further. She could feel her pulse in her temples.

"Oh you think? See, I think I can." She had very few cards to play, but she was going to pull them all. "I thought you knew who I was Nott. I can have the whole Ministry on your arse within the next hour. I can have your father, or all of you, sent to Azkaban, _without_ a trial. I can also use my wand right now." She waited for him to absorb what she'd just said, hoping her anger hid the big fat lies, as Parkinson's shaking doubled. When his stare hardened, she continued: "I won't though. Because I think you'll think this through. I'll keep those," She said, showing the wands, "until I receive a confirmation that they have dropped the blackmail. If it continues, you'll regret it, if it leaks, you'll be sorry to be alive. Am I being clear?"

"You are." He growled, his eyes so dark if they'd been magical weapons she would have been dead for long. Hermione repressed another shudder, this man was definitely a menace, but she forced herself to keep her own glare steady on him.

"You …" Parkinson started weakly.

"You shut the fuck up Pansy." He spat, his breath heavy. If Hermione left just then, she worried he'd kill her, but then, she realised that Draco's tensed despair was probably because of her, and instead of warning Nott against violence, she added:

"Don't forget who I am Nott, I'd have no mercy for you." She glared one last time at him, and disapparated.

Hermione never apparated to her building, because the noise could alert the neighbours, and she couldn't apparate in her flat either, it was warded, but this time was an exception.

She stumbled, out of breath, adrenaline decreasing dangerously, in front of her door. She banged it open and once it was closed again, collapsed against it.

Damn. She hadn't felt this much in years. Fear, raw fear, nerves, anger, rage, fury even, spite, power. Hate. All had mixed as she'd pull the name card. She was definitely not a school girl any more.

She caught her breath, slowly and then realised she was clenching at her wand so tightly that her fist hurt. She loosened her grip and accioed a piece of parchment and a quill to tell Malfoy.

She quickly wrote that the blackmail should be off very soon, that she'd explain, all that in a shaky handwriting she didn't like, and sent her tiny owl. Tiny, she'd just call him Tiny. Tiny the tawny owl.

She watched Tiny fly off, and felt so moist in cold sweat that she undressed on the spot and went straight to her shower.

When she came out of it, her nerves slightly eased by the heat, a loud cracking noise made her jump. A small yelp escaped her lips as her wand flew up to her right hand in a summon she'd made unconsciously. She ran to the source of the noise, picturing Nott on her threshold, his dark eyes nearly black with fury, his wand pointed at her, only to find Astoria's head in the earth of her small fireplace.

"Are you bloody serious?" She shrieked. "You scared the crap out of me!" Astoria's giggles were certainly not welcome.

"Hermione?" She said, cocking an eyebrow at her, totally unaffected by the death glare she was receiving.

"What?" Hermione snapped angrily. Astoria remained thoroughly unbothered.

"You're in your panties." She smirked outrageously. Hermione scowled and didn't even bother to cover herself, neither to contain her irritation:

"What do you want?" She spat. Astoria's mirth suddenly vanished as her face screwed in a grave expression.

"We have an issue. It's about Draco."

"What's happened?" Hermione urged, her nerves twisting the other way around.

"They're starting the blackmail."

Hermione stopped and felt her mouth lift in a smirk that was surely ugly. Astoria's eyes grew wide.

"I don't think so." Hermione said, a mischievous chuckle even escaped her lips. Astoria's mouth fell agape.

"What have you done?" She asked, a smirk of her own slowly creeping up her mouth.

"Just tell him I have good news. I'll explain. Where …"

"Blaise's. Be quick." Hermione nodded and Astoria's smirk disappeared with the flames.


	31. Chapter 31

Friday, June 13th, 2003.

Part two: Revealing encounter.

When Greengrass finally emerged from the flames she pinched her lips, trying to erase her mirth. Draco was suddenly lost, her previous urgency had vanished.

"Well, I think you should have called her yourself." She smirked at him. What was going on?

"Why? She doesn't …"

"She was only in her panties." She purred. Blaise burst out laughing and Draco decided to busy himself with some papers. Now was not the time to put a mental picture on that sort of comment.

"She'll be there in a minute, with good news she said." Greengrass still explained, apparently taking his busying of his hands for worry.

Draco didn't get any time to comprehend what she'd said though, that a totally dressed Granger appeared in a cloud of smoke and a crashing sound. Her hair was wet. He forgot about the papers.

"You could have told me it was that bitch Draco!" She exclaimed angrily. Draco? She'd called him Draco? Shit what had she just said?

"What?"

"Why didn't you tell me it was Pansy?" She roared, taking a step to him, her wet hair oddly flat.

"Because it's not what …"

"Oh, so she didn't tell Theodore Nott about the oath then?" She cut.

"How do you know?" He gasped.

"I've had the _honour_ of meeting her. I wrote." No wonder she was so pissed off then. What had that bitch done now?

"Wh … What happened?" He asked, a whole new wave of worry crashing on him. What had that bitch _done_? Was it …Wait. Granger was grinning. No, she was smirking with so much mirth it was … unsettling. What the hell was going on?

"The bitch thought she could insult me." She chuckled as if it were the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. Draco had to admit that doing it to her face probably was. "Too bad she's too stupid to keep her mouth shut though. Nott was not happy with her." Well, he'd shaken Pansy for nothing, Granger definitely didn't need him to defend her. At all. But Pansy hadn't listened to him. If he ever saw her again … Wait maybe Granger had taken care of her.

"What did you _do_?" He asked, not even worried any more. Whatever she'd done, he knew it was good.

"I disarmed them, stole their wands, and threatened to send everyone in Azkaban without trials. They should stop the blackmail soon now. Oh, and of course keep their mouths shut." She paused, and he almost jumped in relief, but then she added, with a mischievous smirk that could rival Blaise's: "I might have also slipped in an implicit death threat … But I can't be sure, I was really pissed off."

Draco couldn't believe his ears, a death threat on his behalf? It was ... Well, exactly what he'd done too. But still, from Granger? No, it couldn't be. Had he even understood all she'd said?

"Are you serious?" He asked to get confirmation.

"Yes, and it's the most satisfying thing I've done in years." She smiled at him then, a foreign and cocky smile that told him she could see his surprise. He still managed to push out a :"Fuck."

"And you're a prat by the way." That cut his smile. Her mood had shifted in the space of a few seconds.

"What?" Was she lunatic or something?

" _What?_ " She mimicked angrily, "Why didn't you tell me?" Ah, damn. "I could have had the whole department on them everyday! I could have pressured them and avoided all this!"

"Err … I … I didn't thought you'd …"

"What? Keep my mouth shut?" The glare she gave him had a double entendre Draco realised was just for him. Of course she would have kept her mouth shut. "Those bastards were going to use you for Merlin's sake!"

"I didn't …" Wait, what did she care? "Sorry." He added quickly at her glare.

"You're a prat." She still spat.

"A stubborn prat." Added Blaise.

"Exactly!" She pushed.

"Em. Maybe we should have a drink. I know the oath is not broken or anything but … I mean, there's time now." Cut Greengrass with first, an uneasy smile, and second, a warning glare to Granger. The wet-haired angry witch sighed and deflated instantly:

"Right, right. I guess I'm a bit … Sorry Malfoy it's just … That bitch!" Malfoy, he was back to Malfoy. Good. Good?

"She has that effect on people yes." Confirmed Blaise. Draco watched her calm down slowly, and accept the glass of wine Blaise handed her with a tight smile, her still damp hair dropping on her shoulders. He couldn't believed what had just happened.

Astoria and Blaise settled on the couch and she took one of the armchairs. Draco only sat on the other armchair when he'd swept away the mess with a switch of his wand, still oddly confused. It landed messily on the buffet, under Granger's small mocking smile. He'd have to ask her about her charms someday. When he finally decided it was safe to speak since the couple was already bickering, Granger beat him to it:

"I meant it when I said you could trust me, you know that, right?"

"Yes." He gulped.

* * *

Hermione's anger had passed and she'd realised it hadn't been his fault he hadn't trusted her. "I'm so sorry." she said.

"Why? I am a stubborn prat." He scowled. He looked strangely out of sorts.

"Oh that you are." She smirked half-heartedly. "But … It was my idea …I mean … Nott, Flint I'm …"

"You didn't know." He cut, regaining some sort of composure. "And _I_ told Pansy about the oath."

"Not the wisest move I admit, but still I …"

"It's not your fault Granger." He snapped. "If nothing you saved my arse so don't apologise." Anger, that was familiar. Hermione sighed and decided against arguing. She was about to drop the subject when he said, his eyes on his knuckles:

"Thank you."

"You'll thank me when the oath is broken." She said. "I've been looking through the Ministry's resources, maybe I'll find something in there."

He lifted his eyes to her: "Resources?"

"The archives, the library, I'm trying to find a pretext to go down to Mysteries. I'm certain they have a few very interesting books that might help."

"Why Mysteries?" He asked with curiosity.

"I … It's just a theory, but maybe I could find a way to break the oath …"

"Isn't that what you've been working on?"

"The oath Malfoy. Break it entirely, not just free you from it."

"I don't know if that's possible. I mean I've done my researches and …" He said, showing the messy pile of books he'd made just before, sighing. Hermione would have to show him a couple of charms someday. She answered, trying to be convincing:

"It could be. I mean … It's magic. Layers and layers of magic. If I could study it properly, I'm certain I could at least recognise those layers and then I could start working on deconstructing the magic."

"Layer by layer." He repeated thoughtfully. Then his eyes widened : "That's actually …"

"Clever?" She cut with a small smile.

"Don't push." He frowned but she could see the start of a smile on his mouth. "You'd need to understand how the oath has been cast first though …"

"There aren't so many ways to perform blo …"

"Oh sweet Merlin!" Astoria exclaimed, cutting short their conversation. Apparently snogging and holding a glass of wine didn't go well together. The front of her salmon blouse was covered in red wine. Blaise was smirking his face off though. Hermione decided she didn't want to know why he'd done that.

"Come I'll transfigure something you can wear." Well, apparently she had to know. Astoria sighed and eyed her ruined blouse with some sort of grief.

"Okay." She said and followed Blaise out of the room. Hermione wondered if it'd been a Witchety blouse. If it were the case, the grief made sense.

"You were saying?" Malfoy had a strange disgusted frown on his face. Apparently he'd guessed what that had been about too. No mental pictures, Hermione told herself.

"Err … that, yes, that it's just a theory for now. I really need to access Mysteries to check first." She continued where she'd thought she'd left the conversation.

"Don't kill yourself over it Granger …" Hermione decided to ignore that comment:

"Shame I can't access the Black's library any more. I could call Minerva though. The restricted section had a book about Horcruxes, there's probably something there …"

"You still see McGonagall?" He frowned.

"I used to. Order's parties and all, but I haven't gone in a while." Almost a year she thought.

"The order has parties?" Malfoy looked half-disgusted, half-revolted with the idea. It was the general feeling Hermione had had every time she'd gone to one of those parties.

"At the Burrow or Grimmaud but I'm not invited there any more." She explained.

"Oh. Sorry …" He grimaced awkwardly, he was not sorry. Hermione snorted:

"Don't be. It's always been kind of a chore. Molly's always cooking and the girls always help. I … err … always got disproving glares and nasty comments about my … ability to cook. Among other apparently indispensable household skills." She felt like she'd been rambling until he screwed his face in a grave frown and said, in all seriousness:

"Well, it is important to know how to clean a frying pan." Hermione had a little chuckle that made his frown drop.

"To knit ugly sweaters too." She added. He chuckled and faked an outraged expression, he wasn't so good of an actor for a Slytherin.

"What? Miss Granger beaver doesn't like her red and gold woollen atrocity?" She almost burst out laughing, but decided to tell a untold truth before:

"They itch." She scowled. They both laughed a minute at that.

"Didn't you use to knit? Why don't you make a whole batch of non itchy atrocities to show Molly Weasley your … good household skills?" He grimaced at her name. Hermione didn't find a thing to say to that, she felt the same these days.

"No, that would be petty." She answered. He cocked an unconvinced eyebrow at her. "I'm not a good knitter either." She justified. "I can do socks and ugly hats but that's about it."

"Not a good Weasley spouse then." He shook his head, and asked: "Do you even have an apron?"

Her answer would have pissed Molly off for sure: "I think I own napkins." She shrugged, faking a guilty grimace.

He chuckled and refilled her glass:

"Stick to the wine then. Aprons are for peasants anyway." He dismissed, lifting his nose up in the air. How he saw what he was pouring in the glass, she had no idea.

"Cause you're the upper class I assume?"

"Exactly. I wouldn't make out the difference between flour and sugar and I don't intend to find out any time soon." He obviously lied.

"Posh." She snapped.

"No, upper class Granger." He articulated as if she were some sort of moron.

" _Posh_." She pushed.

"Drink your wine. _Weasley._ " He snapped with a smirk.

"Weas …" She cut herself abruptly, Malfoy using that name as an insult wasn't something new. Who she'd forgotten about though … "Shit George." She muttered.

"Oh so that's his name. You've seen him?" Blaise asked from behind the couch, he came around it and sat back on it.

"I was about to when I saw that bitch!" Exclaimed Hermione. Another thing Pansy sodding Parkinson was responsible for!

"Oh. You didn't then?" Blaise asked.

"No. How did you meet him by the way?"

"Err …" He grimaced as if reluctant to tell her. He still did: "I passed the shop and Weaslette glared at me. When I asked if she'd never seen a good-looking man he seemed to appreciate the joke."

"Really?" Hermione asked, her incredulity making her voice high.

"They didn't seem to be in good terms." He explained, as Astoria finally joined them back, wearing a brand new transfigured black blouse.

"I've seen them argue too once." Added Malfoy, as Astoria scowled at her new blouse, but still sat under Blaise's extended arm. Hermione returned to Malfoy quickly:

"Really?" She repeated.

"Yes." He answered, frowning.

"Oh. I should write to him." Hermione wondered why that had sounded more like a question. It was Astoria who answered:

"Yes do that." Blaise nodded in silent agreement but Malfoy seemed to disagree. She watched him questioningly and he scowled:

"I don't like him."

"Why?"

"Cause he beat the shit out of me once?"

"You ..."

"I was a part. Right." He cut angrily. "But a younger and alone prat. And Potter and he jumped on me, broke my nose and a few ribs."

"Oh. I ..."

"Didn't remember it that way?" He asked. Hermione knew his anger wasn't directed at her but still, it stung.

"No. I remember you insulted Ron's family. You talked about Harry's mother ..." She tried to justify.

"I didn't." He retorted but then seemed to think.

"You did." She said softly. She didn't want to rile him up more over something that had happened years ago, in school.

"I did." He eventually muttered. "I was a shite. I guess I deserved the beating then." The last words had been practically snapped. Hermione didn't like that tone.

"I never said that." She countered. "I was the first to lecture them when they came back to the tower."

"Really?" He seemed more than sceptical.

"Yes." She affirmed, not lowering her gaze from his. His eyes were a cloudy grey that night. He was the first one to break eye contact.

"Oh." He said, then: "I didn't know."

"Yes well, it's not like I would have told you."

"Err …" He grimaced.

"No, people would have thought you had a crush on him." When Hermione didn't find anything to say to that, Blaise added: "Maybe you did …"

"You're aware I punched him in third year, right?" She retorted.

"Some people like it punchy …" Blaise smirked.

"That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard." Hermione concluded, or hoped she concluded. She gave Malfoy a side glance, and he was smiling at her. Oh, there'd been another weirdest thing a week before. He remembered apparently. She gave him a crooked smile in answer.

"What's that?" Asked Blaise, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Astoria's grin made Malfoy's smile morph into a scowl.

"Alright let's change the subject." Hermione tried.

"Be a _dear_." Malfoy agreed.

"Right. Quidditch maybe?" She offered. He took the hint quickly and started asking Blaise about Ginny's team. Apparently she was an indispensable member and thank Merlin, it was enough to distract Blaise.

After ten minutes though, Hermione decided she shouldn't have offered. She only hummed and nodded from time to time and soon, Astoria was sighing.

They were both saved by Tiny. The owl had reached the kitchen window. Hermione told Blaise she'd take care of it, and both men resumed talking. She eyed Astoria, and the pretty witch stood, refilled their glasses, and followed Hermione to the kitchen.

Once Tiny was perched on the kitchen counter, Hermione petting its head slowly, both women sat on the stools of Blaise's immaculate kitchen and sipped at their drinks, eyeing from the corner of their eyes the men, apparently deeply engrossed in their conversation.

"So? Pansy Parkinson?" Smirked Astoria. Hermione recognised the curiosity in her eyes.

"Yes?"

"Well, any other juicy detail you kept for yourself?" Hermione blinked, and decided she could feed the woman's need for gossip. They were friends after all.

"Nott smacked her across the face. I … I left her there, I didn't even try to warn him not to be violent."

"Good. If I'd known about all this I'd have done much worse than just smack her." Hermione noted for herself to never be on the wrong side of Astoria's wrath.

"They didn't tell you either?" She asked, knowing already the answer but trying to understand Astoria's sudden ire better.

"No. Men and their sodding pride." She growled.

"Right. It should stop now anyway."

"Yes, but … I mean, I dated Marcus for a long time I could have … I don't know what, but I know I would have thought of something if he'd told me."

"And I could have had the whole department on their arses and he knew it." Hermione added.

"Prat." She scowled and Hermione hummed in agreement.

"I'll take care of the paperwork this week so you can work on the oath between court." Astoria offered when her frown decreased at bit. She was still watching the discussing men thoughtfully.

"You don't have to … I can …" Hermione started to argue.

"It's not that big a deal Hermione. I can do it by myself. And Tracey's ready to help."

"I …" Astoria gave her a warning look then. "Thanks." Hermione eventually surrendered.

"Welcome." They went back to their glasses for a moment.

"I sent you the address for tomorrow by the way. I'll wait for you inside. It's a bit of a shark event I'd rather keep an eye on you."

"Me?"

"Draco mostly."

"Why?" Hermione startled.

"He's not been to any of those events since the war and … I mean my family never associated with death eaters or anything. He might get a few looks."

"Oh." Right, Hermione had forgotten about his reputation.

"Yeah well, he'll be in good hands. It'd do him good to mingle a bit. Blaise is all he's got."

"Mm." Right, another thing she'd forgotten about.

"Plus, with the oath and everything …" Damn, did it ever end?

"I'll find something you know?"

"Oh I know." Astoria dismissed. Her complete trust in Hermione warmed her heart. Still, Astoria's worry for Malfoy was … unexpected.

"I didn't know you cared this much for him."

"He's Blaise's best friend and I care a great deal about Blaise so … Besides he's fun when he's in a good mood." Indeed, he was.

"Like tonight?" Hermione asked, turning her gaze to the men.

"Like tonight. Or last Friday." Astoria smirked.

"Err …"

"Don't pretend you didn't have a good time Hermione." She pushed.

"I'm not pretending anything. I had a good time. Which you both ruined by making assumptions."

"Oh come on. You spent _two_ hours …"

"Right. We got along. Which is a big big step already. I don't know if you'd noticed but we weren't the best of friends before and …"

"It was more than getting along …"

Hermione felt the need to justify with no apparent reason: "Whatever. Think whatever you want. We talked and if you'd kept your fork out of Blaise's mouth we wouldn't have had to ignore the both of you."

"I only had one slice of pie Hermione. It didn't last …"

"That's it." She cut. "Stop that or I'm going home." Her warning had strictly no effect.

"Oh I get it!" Astoria managed to extol quietly. "There's someone else!" She grinned as if she'd discovered another of Hermione's supposed secrets.

"No there's not."

"Confess! If you're not in for pretty pretty Malfoy there has to be someone else!"

"Pretty … Merlin what's wrong with you?"

"I bet it's McMillan!"

Hermione almost gagged:

"Godric's beard I'd rather have Malfoy." Shit. "Oh god I hate you." Astoria burst out laughing. "I didn't mean it like that! You're such a … such a Slytherin! Manipulate me into saying that! Stop giggling!" She reprimanded a bit loudly.

"What's going on?" Blaise asked from the living-room, and of course both men were watching them now.

"NOTHING!" Hermione spat angrily, elbowing Astoria in the ribs. The witch didn't calm down.

"Doesn't look like nothing." Blaise was starting to smirk and Hermione glared at Astoria. She finally stopped laughing to answer her boyfriend:

"Girl's talk Blaise."

"Err …" He grimaced and turned back to a frowning Malfoy. They started talking again after exchanging a confused shrug.

"Are you mad?" Astoria asked softly after a moment of silent drinking.

"No. You got me good."

"Yes. I know you didn't mean it that way. I was just messing with you."

"You were definitely not sorted wrong. There's no doubt." Hermione pouted moodily. She'd been tricked again!

"Nope. And you're definitely a Gryffindor. A Slytherin would have seen through the McMillan thing right away."

"Err … he is … so …" Hermione's stutter couldn't express how repulsed she felt at the thought of dating Ernie pompous McMillan.

"Err …" Astoria's ugly grimace either. Although she seemed to understand.

"Yes." Hermione agreed. They didn't need words for that.

"Nothing like Malfoy."

"Sure." Hermione almost slapped herself. "Oh my god." Astoria chuckled:

"Oh come on. You can at least give me that. He is handsome. It's a fact. Recognising it doesn't mean anything."

"Err …" Hermione assessed the concerned blond man then. She'd looked at him before. She'd noticed his clenched jaw, his tired eyes, the way he stiffly held himself. His fingers. His ties.

"How do you find Blaise?" Continued Astoria. Hermione frowned, and answered without even thinking:

"Handsome."

Astoria smirked: "And it doesn't mean anything, right? Or do I need to kick your arse?"

"Err. Alright. It's just …"

"What?"

Hermione turned back to the talking men before answering: "Well I've never looked at him like that."

"Like what? A man?"

"Err … no. Like, not the prat I knew before." And he was not that prat any more even if she'd called him so a moment before. He was talking quietly, his interest only betrayed by the movement of his hands as he explained something to Blaise. He definitely had the fingers of a pianist.

"There's a lot of pretty prats you know." Murmured Astoria. She was watching both men too, although she was hiding it behind her glass. Hermione lifted hers and considered what Astoria had just told her. Malfoy was … not the prat she'd known before.

He was smart, witty, complicated. Interesting. Why had she never even considered the physical aspect of him? It felt ludicrous given their history. Besides, she'd never been interested in looks. Which was why she'd refused to properly date Victor Krum for instance, he'd been pretty, oh-so-pretty, but as dumb as his feet.

Now that Astoria had mentioned it though, she couldn't just let it go.

She was so used to the pointy chin and nose, to the ashen blond hair and the mocking smirk that she'd never tried to see past it.

What she saw now though, was a totally different picture.

He held himself impeccably right in the armchair. He'd removed his tie, his collar was open, and a small patch of alabaster skin showed. Seeing the way his shirt held, he was lean. He was also tall, his extended legs reached the coffee table in front of him. His hair was shorter, and his fringe fell on his forehead as if he'd spent his day pulling at it. His face wasn't as pointy as she remembered it had once been, and she could guess the shadow of ashen facial hair around his chin. He pleated his eyes just then, and even though she couldn't see them, she remembered the way they'd looked, the way they changed shade sometimes. The way she hadn't been able to look away from them.

He was something.

He wasn't a traditionally handsome man, no. But there was something about him. Something sombre, and torn, contrasting sharply with his fair appearance, something enthralling that she'd noticed before, but decided to ignore. Something that definitely wasn't unpleasant to look at.

"So?" Pressed Astoria. Hermione sighed, turning away from the man. Now she would never unsee it.

"I guess he is a pretty prat." She granted.

"Yes. Definitely." Astoria hid her smirk in her glass and Hermione started to feel like she'd been played again. Before she could voice it, the sly witch asked:

"Have you tried the dress on?"

"No."

"Of course. Look, in case it doesn't fit I'll leave something on my couch. I'll already be at my parent's but you can floo to my place in the morning."

"Oh, well, thank you."

"Welcome." Astoria winked mischievously. Hermione decided she would wear the dress she'd bought, whether it fit, or not.

* * *

The saviour of the day, none other than Granger, followed Astoria back to the living after their supposed girl talk. Blaise couldn't help his smirk:

"Finished talking about us already?" Judging by the way Granger became suddenly very occupied with a button of her black blouse and by the smug smile Astoria gave him, he'd hit right.

Draco seemed to be the only one who didn't notice a thing. Granger muttered that she'd go home then, and bid them good night, until the next day.

Blaise and Astoria watched Draco stand up and take the few steps to the fireplace with her. He thanked her again, which she dismissed with a 'my pleasure to kick Parkinson's arse' and Astoria winked at Blaise.

He gave her a questioning eye as Granger was throwing floo powder in the earth and Draco had his back to them. She stepped closer to him and murmured:

"I had to force it out of her, but she finds him _pretty_."

That smirk. Salazar how he loved that smirk.

 **A/N:** I'll be late to publish next week, so I thought I'd give you this chapter now. I hope the ones of you who were worried about the Dramione part of this story can finally see that it's coming. Slowly, painfully, but coming nonetheless.  
Thanks you all for the reviews.  
Lucie.


	32. Chapter 32

Saturday, June 14th, 2003.

Part one: Meeting as gossip couple.

Hermione had gone home the previous night, slightly too inebriated to even attempt to work, but still not drunk enough to just go to bed. She'd tried to read, and hadn't been able to concentrate enough to comprehend a single sentence from the biography she'd randomly picked from her shelf.

Pansy sodding Parkinson's disdainful face, the dark glint in Theodore Nott's eyes, her conversation with Draco, and the trap she'd fallen in with Astoria had kept flashing in her mind, until she'd discarded the book for next year, and decided to do something else to calm her nerves. Thinking further about that day hadn't been an option.

She'd had the brilliant idea to try on the dress then.

Of course she'd ended up struggling to take off the beautiful material for twenty minutes.

It was the least to say that she'd gone to sleep slightly exasperated.

That morning though, as she put the dress back on, she was in a different kind of nerve-wrecking state.

She'd never been to any of those upper-class events before, only to Ministry parties where she'd been part of the apparently indispensable guests, but she suspected it would be as much of a chore. After all, people recognised her in the street, and a bunch of upper-class elders had to know who she was, especially now that she was head of Law Enforcement.

As she watched her morning hair and tired eyes atop that beautiful and outrageously expensive gown, she suddenly felt like taking it off and going back to bed.

It was a charity party. A classy charity party, with the whole wizarding aristocratic circle. Even Hermione knew that Mrs Greengrass was the most famous post-war hostess.

She'd had to make an effort this time. At least to blend into the mass – which could only be a good thing, it would avoid pointless hypocritical small talks – if not to please the upper-class bunch of tight-arsed she'd spend the day with.

It occurred to her that using ten bottles of Sleekeazy's to go for the usual notice-me-not look wouldn't do though. Not with such an expensive and noticeable gown.

Although it was either that or whatever inappropriate and probably equally expensive thing Astoria had picked.

Sighing, she decided against following Ginny's old advices, she'd be damned before she spent four hours straightening her hair. Instead, she grabbed only one bottle of Sleekeazy's, a fistful of pins and the very few items of make-up she possessed.

Her unruly hair only struggled for a few minutes as she passed the potion through the strands, and pined the frizzy curls at the back of her head in some sort of messy chignon. She was relatively pleased with it. The make-up though, err. She should have asked Astoria about her glamour charms. She gave up at the second attempt.

Hermione knew for a fact that she wasn't a beautiful woman, not the way Astoria was for instance, and that she was just plain and simple, but it had always been enough for her. She had the brains to compensate anyway.

After enlarging the bathroom mirror, and taking one last look at herself, she decided that if she wasn't beautiful, she was still pretty enough. She looked like herself and it would have to do.

Trying to muster some of her Gryffindor bravery, she walked out of her building, to the small dead end next to it, and apparated to the Greengrass residence.

At the sight of the house though, she was bitterly reminded that she was walking straight into another world. Being a muggle-born still had its oddities.

Whatever her position in the Ministry, whatever her war heroism, there, she did not belong. Not that she wanted to anyway.

The house was … gigantic, magnificent. A four story mansion, with immense windows framed by intricate engraved stone, and a mountainous set of double entrance doors, surrounded by towering white pillars, between which a small crowd of pastel gowns and black dress robes was already gathered.

Grimacing, she took at step closer to the gates and a tall wizard dressed entirely in black welcomed her coolly, checked the guest list, and let her in without further indication as to what to do.

She walked down the small path to the double front doors, the gigantic pillars, and the crowd of upper-class ladies and gents, suddenly hoping to find Blaise and Draco as quickly as possible. As odd as it was.

She didn't get that lucky.

"Miss Granger?" Hermione turned around. She had no idea who this elder man was but of course he knew her. She should have straightened her hair after all.

"Eh, yes. Have we …"

"No. Never. I am Albert Hasting a fervent admirer and supporter of the Order of the Phoenix during both wars." _Supporter_. A stashed. Good. The afternoon promised to be wonderful.

"Oh, nice to meet you." She said, trying to plaster a polite smile on her mouth as the man extended a palm to her. She felt obligated to put her hand in it, and had to take a deep breath not to jerk it away when he brushed his wrinkled lips to the tip of her fingers.

He kept her hand trapped in his a bit too long to her taste afterwards. Hermione was saved – yes saved, no snort this time – by Blaise's voice.

"Hermione! Over here!" Thank Merlin they were there. She didn't even question her sudden urge to run towards them.

* * *

Draco followed a hurrying Blaise to the gates of Greengrass Manor. The lad had whined endlessly all morning. The usually so-fucking-late idiot had pushed Draco until the last had thought repeatedly about hexing his balls. Blaise had stopped whining only when Draco had mentioned those thoughts.

They still arrived fifteen minutes early and Blaise looked … Nervous? Odd.

A wizard, dressed in black robes, welcomed them, and after a check of the guest list, let them in with a polite nod. Witches and Wizards in the usual extravagant dresses and tailored robes were gathered before the double front doors, talking, and they both walked to join the awaiting group.

Draco caught sight of the hosts and Blaise's nervousness suddenly made sense. Mrs Greengrass, looking perfect in a long rose gown, was letting people in, as her husband, impeccable to the last grey hair, was shaking hands with whatever important wizard Draco recognised without being able to remember his name. He was probably not one of his father's acquaintances.

Well, they were all not, actually. An unwelcome unease started to creep its way up his spine as he realised that he was the only ex-death-eater invited. On reflection, it was true that he hadn't been invited to any of those events since the war and, even if people were apparently too polite to comment, he was getting looks. Great, the afternoon promised to be wonderful.

"Hermione! Over here!" Blaise's voice cut his thoughts. Draco turned around to see that Granger was there and he froze. She'd been just a few feet away from them and he hadn't seen her. She wore something that definitely sported Greengrass' hands. Hence his sudden shock.

She quickly walked to join them with a small uneasy smile and Blaise gave her:

"You're beautiful." Draco saw a slight blush appear and vanish from her cheeks before she answered.

"Thank you." She smiled, avoiding Draco's eyes. He should probably compliment her too.

"Been here long?" Blaise continued as Draco hadn't been able to utter a single word.

"No, I just arrived. Astoria said she'd wait inside."

"Let's go then." Blaise said, offering her his arm. She took it and they started away.

"You're coming?" She stopped, watching him with a small expectant smile that made her dimples pop. He answered when Blaise's weird look morphed into a smirk:

"Yes." He guessed the usual compliment would have to wait. He followed, leaving a step between them. They reached the doors and the hosts, and after a polite but awkward salute for him, were let inside.

Draco kept following the 'Witch Weekly couple' in the large entrance hall, and they took the direction of a ballroom on the left.

Granger's dress was strangely all he could see. Hermione Gryffindor Granger in a green dress. It was quite the sight. Especially such a dress. It looked like liquid silk and even glistened with the light.

He could see half her back and the top of her shoulders. She had small freckles on her back. Her arms were covered with the beautiful material and the only skin he could see otherwise was approximately half of her thin calves, but it felt … immensely revealing.

Draco realised he'd never seen her in anything else than too large black clothes. Or without her gigantic mass of hair being either too tamed or too distracting.

And he surely hadn't expected that.

He had to admit that Blaise's 'pretty enough' was an understatement. She wasn't beautiful in a breath-taking way like Greengrass would certainly be but ... There was something about her.

Something about her tamed but still wild hair, waving after her as some loose curl had managed to escape her hairdo. Something about the way she held her petite form, as if daring anyone to comment with that fierceness she was the only one to possess. Something about her wide brown eyes pretending to not be amazed by the magical decor surrounding them.

Something definitely not unpleasant to look at.

It kind of slapped him across the face then, Granger was far from being the annoying buck-teethed bushy-haired girl he'd met more than a decade ago. Oh he'd known that, of course, and especially since they'd started meeting, but … Until that moment, she'd just been _Hermione Granger_ , some sort of entity.

Not a woman.

And certainly not _such a woman_.

Because she was quite something.

He shook his head. Thank Salazar Blaise couldn't read thoughts. What was wrong with him?

Draco sighed for himself, whatever Granger was anyway, he'd missed the opportunity to open his mouth and do the polite thing. The fact that the compliment would have been genuine he chose to ignore.

He'd failed in his manners, and of course, she'd noticed.

He was a right idiot.

He'd make sure she had a drink and everything she needed all afternoon.

He almost snorted aloud. Like that would do. She'd call him posh again.

"There you are!" Greengrass had appeared at his side as soon as he'd taken a step in the ball room. She gave a cocky smile to Blaise, eyeing Draco. Granger seemed to realise just then that they'd both been trapped. She pulled a face and tried to untangle herself from Blaise, to no avail.

"No, you're not escaping me." He smirked. "The more trapped you look, the less stupid I look."

"But you are stupid." She snapped back making Draco chuckle.

"And here I called you beautiful." He sneered.

"How stupid of you." She countered, a mischievous chuckle escaping her lips when Blaise didn't find anything to answer. Draco followed and even Greengrass laughed a little.

"You too?" Blaise snapped at his girlfriend after an outraged glare at Draco.

"Well, if Witch Weekly says so …"

"Very funny." He pouted. Draco stifled a laugh. It was funny, especially the pouting part.

"Come with me Greengrass." He said, lifting his nose.

"Astoria."

"Oh, right. Astoria. You look lovely by the way." He mocked for Blaise but regretted it instantly as Granger drew her eyes to her feet. What an idiot.

"Thank you." Greengrass bowed with extra exaggeration, and Draco offered her his arm. She took it and led them towards the buffet. Draco had just the time to not be a complete moron, and since Blaise was still glaring daggers at his girlfriend, he muttered quietly as he passed Granger:

"You too Granger."

* * *

Hermione froze on the spot as he walked away, Astoria on his arm. She wasn't even sure she hadn't imagined the words, he'd said them so quietly.

She didn't get any time to think more about it though, that Blaise said:

"Come."

He led her to the buffet table with a chaste hand brushing the small of her back. He was the perfect gentleman, but his eyes were on his girlfriend. Hermione couldn't help but find it funny. It was their weird idea to go separately and still he was jealously sulking at his own best friend.

There were multiple sides to this man Hermione realised. All Slytheriny cunning, flirty bachelor, mocking but friendly, loyal, also whiny and now jealous.

She was pretty sure that she had more to discover, but if she were certain of one thing it was that he was beyond taken with the pretty witch. It was definitely not a simple fling. On either side.

They eventually reached the large buffet tables, where were sprawled an outrageously opulent variety of foods. Hermione couldn't help her disapproving frown. She'd never seen this much in her entire life, and it was supposed to be a charity event.

If all the money went in foods, tricky decor charms and fancy gowns, she wondered how those people could still donate to charity. No one was this loaded, right?

When she turned to Astoria, and saw her obvious lack of surprise though, she realised that the pretty witch was _this_ loaded, and the nagging feeling of not belonging came back.

Plus, Blaise had let go of her a second to grab them a drink, and a tall young man Hermione didn't know came to greet Astoria.

To her obvious displeasure.

Whoever he was, he didn't know her well. The glare she was shooting would have made Hermione run away. Malfoy seemed to agree as he took a step away from them, frowning.

Hermione found herself very lonely at that moment.

"Hello Hermione." She jumped and turned around. One of the waiter was Peregrine Derrick. Of course.

"Oh, hello Peregrine." She answered awkwardly, wondering when in hell they'd decided to be on first name terms.

"I didn't expect to see you here." He didn't seem judging, just genuinely surprised. Hermione still remembered commemoration night, and the man's incessant talking, and decided to be curt.

"Ah." She said, with a very very small smile at the man. He didn't take the hint. Evidently. He even lowered the tray he was holding to the buffet table, and started to talk.

Hermione realised simultaneously that she was trapped, and that she was currently looking for Blaise in the crowd of pompous gowns to save her.

The first time had been more about running away from both men. Now though … Blaise was nowhere in sight! Astoria wasn't trapped by the young man any more, but she was a little further away, talking with her sister.

Hermione had no wish to punish herself more. Daphne Greengrass wasn't a pleasant woman and she even preferred 'Dicky'.

"I got the job from my cousin, he's working at the Ministry …"

"Ah." She cut again with a cold smile and tried to walk away, but the man still didn't get the hint and touched her shoulder to keep her attention. Hermione had to take a deep breath not to slap his hand away.

"Who did you come with? I just saw you and … I mean I'm not a guest obviously, but if you were alone I could …" Godric's beard was he really hitting on her?

She didn't help him. She just shrugged helplessly and then her eyes finally landed on Malfoy who had stepped even further away from Astoria and Daphne, and was now far away enough that he probably couldn't hear the conversation.

Hermione could still see the look on his face though. The _bastard_. He was pinching his lips so hard it made her hand throb to grab her wand. That deserved at least a stinging hex. Of course he didn't step closer to help her.

"I came with Blaise." She eventually said, glaring daggers at a now chuckling Draco sodding Malfoy.

"Zabini?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I … I didn't know you'd … I mean I thought you weren't in very good terms." Derrick stuttered, obviously surprised and a little disbelieving.

"Oh but we are." Blaise. Thank Merlin. Malfoy rolled his eyes from afar and it was Hermione's turn to smirk.

"Oh. Zabini. I …" Derrick stuttered as Blaise came beside Hermione and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Should go. Yes. It's not very polite to hit on another's girlfriend, you know?" He snapped, not even trying to hide his amusement at bullying the man.

"I … I wasn't …"

"Go away Dicky." He ordered. Hermione bit the inside of her cheeks as Derrick didn't need to be told twice. If he'd known how to fly he would have. He even forgot his tray, and didn't come back for it.

There'd been a time where Hermione wouldn't have found the little bullying funny at all, but just then, she shamelessly could confess that she'd almost laughed. It was the second time Blaise saved her from the talkative and boring man.

The poor guy would probably end up traumatised if something like this ever occurred again, but her relief was stronger than her concern. And Blaise had done it with such a smug and condescending smirk she'd been reminded of herself with her ex-employees, and decided that she couldn't blame someone for doing exactly what she'd done before.

"Thanks for that." She said.

"My pleasure. Always fun to chase away the morons." He dismissed, perusing the abandoned tray.

"He's not a moron, he's just a tad …"

"Thick? You said 'ah' twice with a 'please fuck off' face … Even I would have given up." He said, now grabbing a fancy canapé and inspecting it closely.

"Err …"

"Oh sorry, was that a pathetic attempt to flirt back?" He asked, a start of a smirk on his mouth as he put the canapé back down. She pulled a face at him.

"No." She snapped, and then added with another face: "Have you seen his teeth?"

He chuckled: "Well, after marrying a Weasley I guess any Slytherin would be an improvement." That man didn't have any qualms with her. No pity. Well, it'd been what she'd wished for, right? At least she didn't have to worry about his honesty.

"I'm going to ignore that or I'll have to kick your arse." She threatened. Of course he remained entirely unbothered and kept smirking:

"Unless you'd prefer another Slytherin? A tall annoying blond maybe?"

"No thank you." She said rolling her eyes, and hoping Astoria had kept her little manipulation for herself. Blaise would never let this go.

"You sure? I found you got along quite fine." He taunted.

"I get along with Aberforth too. Doesn't mean anything." She tried.

"Not fond of long white beards Granger?" He chuckled.

"Nope." She said, chuckling herself.

"Me neither." He grimaced and she had a little laugh. He eventually found a canapé he judged worth eating and only when he was done chewing, he asked, his tone more serious this time: "Seriously though, have you thought about finding someone else?"

That question took her off guard. Either he was a great actor, and he was plotting something with Astoria, either he was really wondering. She had no idea which it was. She settled for being honest:

"Not really no. I'm just divorced Blaise."

"It doesn't have to be serious." He shrugged. "Plus, it's been months already, hasn't it?" Indeed she'd been divorced for five months now. Really free from any ties with Ron since he'd sold the cottage a month before though. Still, finding someone else hadn't even occurred to her.

"It has. But I haven't thought about that yet. I'm a bit busy."

"You can always find some time for a little fun, you're here after all." He shrugged again and Hermione frowned. That conversation was weird.

"If you say so." She dismissed.

"Trust me I know what I'm talking about. If you found someone our age …"

"Right." She cut. Weirder.

"Someone absorbed by work and as stubborn …" Good actor.

"Draco's not an option Blaise." She could have fallen for this one too. Godric that couple would be the end of her!

He chuckled: "Right, and I'm ugly."

"Oh that you are." She sneered, hoping to sidetrack the subject.

"Gryffindors are bad liars." He taunted.

"Slytherins are a pain in the arse." She snapped back.

"But you can't do without us." He smirked, wriggling his eyebrows.

"You're annoying, you know that, right?" She eventually sighed. He'd never stop anyway.

"That's why you love me so much."

"I don't. I even regret ever speaking to you." She lied, trying to look angry, not on the verge to laugh.

"Another lie. Here I thought you were always truthful. I'm disappointed." He pouted.

"Here I thought you were unbearably irritating. Oh but wait! I was right."

"You hurt me _Hermione_. Where has our love gone?" He asked with false sadness.

"In the potion you obviously didn't take." She snorted. They both chuckled before he continued:

"I must have forgotten. I'm a bad boy. Maybe you should punish me." He purred. Hermione sighed:

"Do you ever stop flirting? Or is that some sort of second nature?"

He shrugged: "Only with beautiful women." The fact that he didn't seem mocking just then obligated her to hide a little smile before she answered:

"Well then stick to yours please. Whatever you made the papers say, I'm not interested."

"You break my heart." He said gripping his robes in some dramatical act.

"You piss me off." She chuckled.

He blew her a kiss then and Hermione felt herself give him his grin back.

"Where are the others?" He asked after stuffing another canapé in his mouth. Apparently manners weren't a upper-class thing, just a Malfoy thing. She took a look at their surroundings:

"I … Well Draco disappeared and Astoria was just there … She was arguing with Daphne just a moment ago …" At Daphne's mention his face dropped abruptly. He seemed now … nervous?

He gulped down the canapé before worrying: "You're kidding, right?"

"No, why?"

"Daphne?" He cringed, his eyes not on her any more, but seeking Astoria in the crowd. "I forgot she'd be here."

What was wrong with Daphne? What did she have to do with Blaise?

Oh. Dear Merlin. Blaise Zabini. Of course.

"Merlin Blaise. Seriously? Daphne?" She asked and he winced this time. He didn't even try to deny it:

"It was before commemoration."

"Still, sisters?" She reprimanded.

"Well I … I didn't intend to … It wasn't supposed to last with Astoria." Hermione saw the genuine worry in his dark eyes then, and the obvious concern made his next words waver: "Although it might just be screwed now."

She'd been right and reassurance was her first instinct: "Don't say that. I'm certain …"

"Gryffindor bullshit." He cut abruptly. Right. She was with Blaise Zabini.

"Right. You better beg for forgiveness at her feet then." She told.

"Let's find her." He nodded, dragging her along the ball room, and they started ducking through the moving aristocrats.

They were stopped five times by random people. 'Oh you are Hermione Granger! Our war heroin! It is a pleasure to meet such a prodigious witch!' One ever had the guts to add: 'Especially with such a background'. Blaise had the sense to yank at her arm then, and made them go away with a sharp dismissal at the obviously not very smart man.

He handled the conversations from then on. And he was really good at it Hermione realised. He managed to simultaneously compliment and insult people and have them laugh at themselves. Better, he managed to get rid of them quickly, all the while avoiding the questions about their 'unexpected' relationship. He and Astoria had really found each other, well not literally just yet but still.

They finally caught sight of her, after about ten atrocious and pointless conversations, and what had felt like an eternity of walking around the ballroom.

Hermione nodded to Blaise, and after grimacing, he let her a few steps away to go talk to his girlfriend. Astoria looked beyond pissed off.

It would take more than begging to have her forgive him. Damn. Hermione hoped that her wrath didn't surpass her feelings for Blaise. They were good together. Equally sly and annoying.

They started arguing quietly right away, far away enough that Hermione couldn't hear what turn things were taking.

She felt again, very lonely.

She started to feel a bit claustrophobic, as she was surrounded by people who didn't bother to hide their curious glances, when someone joined her.

Someone she hadn't remembered she'd always wished to slap on the face. No magic. A hard slap on the cheek, the muggle way.

Hermione decided just then that she'd never go to any charity event ever again.


	33. Chapter 33

Saturday, June 14th, 2003.

Part two: Parting ways as inverted couples.

Draco stepped even further away from his 'date' when her snooty little cousin – who had had the guts to sniff scornfully at him – was promptly chased away by none other than Daphne.

Not that he had anything particular against the incredibly superficial woman, but the looks he kept receiving were unpleasant enough that he didn't need to bear with girl's talks too.

He quickly forgot about Daphne's rattling on about whatever though, as he caught sight of Granger, apparently struggling to get rid of Peregrine Derrick. He didn't even consider helping her, Derrick was harmless and … well … It was immensely funny to see her struggle as the leech even grabbed her shoulder. He hoped she hexed him.

She didn't, and the fun only lasted until Blaise came to her rescue, again.

When Draco returned his attention to Astoria, the opposite sisters started arguing and he decided that it was time to get a drink.

He discreetly sidestepped away from the siblings and went back to the buffet tables. The only drinkable beverage he found was champagne, and thank Salazar because if they'd served firewhiskey he'd probably have drunk himself to death.

Trying to muster nasty smirks convincing enough to make old chums look away wasn't that amusing. Neither that effective.

He found himself looking for the only person who didn't look at him like he was an old cursed sock, and didn't annoy him any time she could. Or more for the only green dress in the crowd.

That bloody dress.

If he were entirely honest with himself though, the dress wasn't really at fault there. On reflection, he'd already noticed Granger's dimples and big brown eyes, and small hands before. He'd just chosen to ignore it, which had been a tad easier when she'd been hidden under black tents for clothes.

He only had to go back to pretend he didn't see _her_ , was all.

Like she'd ever notice anything physical about him. Preposterous.

Plus, it unexpectedly seemed as though they managed to get along just fine, he'd better not ruin the whole thing by gawping at her like a moron or get distracted by assets she rarely even bothered to enhance or show.

Such a woman didn't need looks though, a man only needed to talk to her to be blown.

Woah. Where had that come from?

Ah, right. Deconstructing the magic. Brilliant.

So, he had to go back to pretend he wasn't blown by her brains and just ignore the rest. It wasn't like he really cared anyway, right?

She was nowhere in sight though, neither was Blaise. Maybe they'd gone back to Astoria.

It took Draco a great amount of self-control not to start hexing people on his way back to where he'd left the Greengrass sisters earlier. Being judged by people who didn't even know him was terribly frustrating. Especially when those people didn't have the guts to say anything and just glared or ducked away from him.

He didn't have a _disease_ for Salazar's sake.

Draco realised that even if he'd dreaded Ministry events, at least there, the hatred had been justified – and reciprocal. No one there had ever been disrespectful without reason either. Plus, the bunch of Gryffindors were not the kind to talk behind his back, if they had something to say, they just said it.

He finally caught sight of Blaise but stopped in his tracks instantly. He was arguing with Astoria. Quietly, discreetly, but there was no doubts.

Draco waited for it to end from afar, but his curiosity quickly got the better of him. He eventually took a few steps closer, and with one word from the witch was reminded about Blaise's little affair with the more irritating of the two sisters. He went back away thinking it was a shame things chose that moment to backfire. It was the first time Draco could reckon Blaise being serious about a woman. But just like Draco had warned him, it was blowing up in his face.

Blaise should have been able to keep it in his pants for once. Sisters, not the wisest move.

To add to Blaise's ordeal, Mr Greengrass passed Draco, shooting him a suspicious glare, and walked straight to the arguing couple.

Draco winced for him, but intervening might do everything but help Blaise's case, at best he'd get kicked out by the host. So he stepped away and started searching the crowd for Granger again.

She had to be either alone, either trapped with another guest. He eventually caught sight of her not far away from them, but she was arguing too. And with someone she liked about as much as he did Pansy.

Draco decided just at that moment that he'd never set foot in a charity event, ever, again.

Rita Skeeter, her too red lips pursued in a contemptuous sneer, was glaring daggers at Granger, and obviously the green-dressed witch wasn't enjoying the company at all. Draco didn't think twice before going their way. He was certain he'd never seen Granger this angry before. She was turning red.

"You watch your tone Rita. I am not insulting." She spat, her words ice. The hell to the honeyed tone she'd used with her receptionist.

"Oh but I do as I please. Not being able to publish what I would like, doesn't mean I have to be pleasant to you. It's a shame really. If it weren't for Potter, the publication would have finally shown people who you truly are. Certainly not the goody-two-shoes you pretend to be."

"I had no idea you knew me this well Rita." The honeyed tone was back. Draco wondered whether it was a good sign. "I should be worried such a vile woman thinks so little of me. But see, I am not." Draco cringed. Not a good sign. She was glowering in ire, and another curl had escaped her hairdo. He stepped even closer until he was just at Rita's back.

"You have a cold heart miss Granger, a cruel cold heart. I doubt you could ever feel love. I doubt you ever felt anything for that poor man you abused and broke to the point of being insane."

"I think that's quite enough." He spat, not able to control himself apparently. Granger snapped her mouth close, and shot him a curious look as Skeeter turned a disdainful sneer to him.

"Mr Malfoy, I see." She turned back to Granger then: "Swapping sides. See what I meant? No loyalty. Nothing. A cold heart."

"A cold heart? Granger? Do you even _know_ her?" He hissed, his anger at the old bint reaching a level he'd rather not reach in public.

"I do Mr Malfoy, better than you do." She strode away, leaving Draco obligated to take a few deep breath before turning back to Granger. He stopped as something flashed in her big brown eyes. She was upset, and not so good at hiding it.

"What was that bitch on about?" He asked, trying to keep the words soft and failing miserably.

"Leave it, she's all words." She said in a trembling voice.

"Brutal words." Draco tried. She finally looked at him in the eyes. They shone.

* * *

"Like I care what she thinks of me." Hermione fumed challengingly but truth was, she did care. The woman had told her she'd used and broken Ron. She'd called her cruel and even though Hermione had had this debate with herself a million times before filling the divorce papers, she couldn't help the stinging feeling at being told again. She hadn't abandoned Ron to make him suffer. She had done it to free herself from a miserable marriage. From a toxic relationship that had made them both miserable. She hadn't used him, never, and she never would, whatever little war was going on between them. That bitch even had the guts to judge him while taking his side. He was certainly delusional but he wasn't insane.

Right, and he was a sodding prat! What had he said in that interview that made Rita so angry she couldn't publish it? It had to be subtle, something not really bad. Something true?

A glass was pushed in her right hand, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Oh, thanks."

Draco shrugged and turned his eyes to his left: "Let's find our … Err … _dates_." He grimaced. "And then fuck off this place."

She followed him without arguing. Apparently he'd been enjoying himself as much as she.

They rounded the ball room, twice, and it seemed as though his presence kept away the small talks. They were only getting looks now. Disapproving glares to be exact. Hermione started to feel rather irritated with the whole charity thing and decided to walk just beside Draco. Let's see if anyone had the guts to comment.

Apparently not, and her sudden proximity only made him frown.

Their dates were nowhere in sight though. After fifteen minutes, Hermione just needed air, and since they couldn't leave without at least warning Blaise or Astoria, she showed Draco the deserted balcony at the far end of the room, and he nodded before following her there.

He closed the glass doors after them and she took in the view of the opulent and gorgeous gardens, while he propped his elbows on the banister, lowering his eyes to the grounds under them. His gaze stilled after a few seconds and Hermione forgot about the view. He was looking blandly into nothing and, even though his face remained as set in stone, his whole posture told a different story.

She could see the tension in his shoulders from the double doors, as well as how tightly he clenched his jaw. She also couldn't help but notice how tall he was again. _Pretty prat_. She'd been right, she'd never unsee it now. Damned Astoria.

She shook her head and went to lean against the banister next to him, her back to the gardens, and stared at the moving gowns in the ballroom.

He didn't move, neither spoke, he just looked as usual, tensed, edging desperate. Maybe he was tired of getting looks. Or maybe it was the oath as Astoria had suggested. It couldn't be the blackmail now. Although they still had to hear from Nott. She found herself asking:

"Are you okay?" He seemed to be pulled out of a trance for a short second, and then muttered:

"I'm trying to decide when to kick Blaise. He whined endlessly that he didn't want to come here alone and now he's vanished."

"I think Astoria will kick his arse just enough. You knew about Daphne?"

"Err … Yes." He said pulling a face.

"Not very wise of him …" Hermione frowned disapprovingly. Draco chuckled softly at her face but didn't contradict her, he only answered a small "Sure." and began looking at nothing in front of him again.

Hermione decided that if even Blaise's stupidity didn't pull a reaction out of him, she could push the subject: "I wasn't asking about that though."

"I know." He sighed, and Hermione noticed the way his mouth remained open a fraction of a second, as if he'd hesitated to tell her something. She kept her mouth shut, but her eyes on him, and waited. He was wearing his blank face again and she thought it wiser not to push him further. She'd opened the conversation, if he didn't want to talk, he could remain silent. At least he knew she'd listen.

They spent a moment like that, him staring at nothing, her waiting. Eventually, he spoke, but so quietly she had to prick her ears:

"I don't like to whine." His eyes didn't waver from the grounds.

"Whine?" She wondered. He turned his blank gaze to her. He seemed to assess her a few seconds where she tried to look expectant. He blinked a few times, frowned and returned his gaze to his hands. Whatever realisation he'd come to, it made him speak. So long as it didn't upset him further, Hermione didn't care what it was. He sighed:

"I've got no real reason to feel bad or complain Granger. I should consider myself lucky I have everything I need. I've got money and a job, some are less lucky."

"But you don't." She stated, hoping he'd hear the implicit 'why'.

"I should." He wouldn't make it easy apparently.

"Why don't you then?" She pushed in a small voice.

"Because. It's … I hate it. All of it, Granger. Not just the job, it's this whole company. What it means, what it does. I'm still recasting it, you know? It's been years and I still find things …" He paused, and his mask slipped away as he clenched his fists, his gaze darkening on the grounds. After another moment of staring at the horizon, while Hermione kept her eyes on him, trying to show she would listen, he finally told her how he felt:

"When I was given heads, it had my father's palms all over the place. In the partnerships, the employees, the products sold, even in the _building_. I had to change the furniture. It was even in the tapestries. Dark artifacts all over the place, evil paintings that made reports to other death eaters … Everything was polluted… I had to change _everything_. I … I don't even care for trade markets and office supplies, or whatever. And those bastards keep writing, and asking for partnerships and … and I have to. I can't just go. And even now that it's approximately clean I still get judged and …" He paused, and Hermione realised that he hadn't been insensible to the looks he'd received all afternoon. He clenched his jaw the more and she winced for him. His stare became so dark she had to say something.

She'd fought with Mrs Zabini to avoid this sort of situations. She'd fought hard, and still, she hadn't been able to control everything. She'd helped but evidently it hadn't been enough. Regulate the companies hadn't changed the public opinion. It must have been so terribly hard to live through all that, right after a war in which he'd been on the loosing side. Even though he'd been pardoned, people had never considered him as the victim he'd been.

People were judgemental pricks she decided.

She was about to tell him exactly that when he said, taking a deep breath and his mask slipping back up:

"I should just consider myself lucky I didn't end up in the street being spat at by people." The bout of rage she felt at those words she couldn't explain. _Lucky?_

"Is that how low you think of yourself?" She blurted. He blinked.

"Well, you know who I am Granger, what I've done …"

"Are you bloody serious?" She snapped angrily. "That's …"

"I hurt people." He cut in a grave tone, not meeting her eyes.

"So did I." She countered, and it was true.

"Not like that …" He started, apparently not able to finish his sentence. He'd turned his gaze to her elbow then, and Hermione caught the stony grey. The almost black induced by anger was gone and he was back to desperate, overwrought.

That sodding oath. He hadn't moved on from the war. How would he have? He was still trapped. Hermione suddenly felt livid. Lucius Malfoy was a lucky man. If she'd had the opportunity to lay hands on him … And those upper-class stashed bastards! Who the hell did they think they were to judge him? She tried to calm down before proving him wrong. Because he was wrong!

"You were a kid," She gave. "With that monster living in your house. Whatever you did anyway, it's _well_ in the past. The fact that people are still judgemental pricks doesn't mean they're right! Wait I'm not finished!" She snapped as he opened his mouth, obviously to contradict her. She kept going: "And now? You have to bear with that rotten company you're trapped in by this loathsome bullshit paper, that even dictates who you should marry, and how you should raise your child, and how you should put a tremendous burden on his shoulders as soon as he's of age. I don't see how that makes you a man people spit on. Quite the opposite actually."

"Wh … You do realised I willingly signed it, right?" He frowned.

The words escaped her mouth then: "You trusted your father. Everyone should be able to trust their father."

He swallowed at that, pinched his lips and decided he still didn't agree:

"Still. I was old enough to know what I was doing." He turned away from her then. He was back to angry, and wasn't even trying to hide it any more. Hermione had known his father would be a delicate subject. She should have let him talk. She was an idiot. She tried to lighten the mood and said the first thing that came to mind:

"Yeah right and I wasn't a know-it-all." His eyes widened in surprise and he snorted, but she could guess the start of a smile lift the corners of his mouth. He watched her a few seconds, the smile not really there, before shaking his head:

"Too stubborn for your own good."

"Means a lot coming from you." She countered easily. He only grimaced in answer as she felt her mouth lift in an ugly smirk.

"I'm always right anyway, so quit arguing." She tried.

He considered her a second then, his grey eyes pleating and his lips wrinkling. She thought he was trying to repress a smile. So, she smiled and he smiled back. A genuine smile. She thought she'd never seen him smile for real before. He never smiled.

"I'll break that thing." She said.

"I know." She hadn't expected that and her surprise must have shown on her face because he said: "You got rid of my blackmailer even before he asked for a thing." As if it justified his sudden trust in her.

"It was sheer luck. If I hadn't crossed Pansy ..." She started.

"Still. You did." He cut, lifting a palm in the air. He was still smiling.

"I did." She smirked and he smiled the more. Hermione quickly returned her gaze to the ball room. That smile. Draco Malfoy trusted her. She'd been determined to help him from the start anyway but then … it went beyond that.

She had to prioritise. Mysteries first. She'd call Minerva first thing Monday morning too. Hogwarts could be part of the solution and it was more accessible.

"How are _you_?" She snapped out of her planning and answered out of reflex:

"Good. Why?"

"What was that really about with Rita?" He asked with a frown. His face was otherwise wholly guarded. She'd come to recognise that it meant he was hiding behind it. He'd talked after all, so she decided to be honest:

"Ron's interview."

"Oh." As he lowered a suddenly angry gaze to his hands Hermione was reminded that he knew. He knew what had happened with Ron and his sudden ire was confusing. It would have made sense with Astoria, probably even Blaise if any of them had known, but Malfoy?

Were they friends too?

Hermione considered their 'relationship' a moment and found herself suddenly feeling very awkward, and totally disinterested in what that horrible blond woman had had to say.

They'd shared things, very personal things, outside anything related to his oath, hadn't they? They'd talked, more than just acquaintances would have, they'd laughed, helped and defended each other without any of them asking for anything in return.

The fire she'd just felt, this will to help, she'd only felt it once in her entire life and it had been during the war. It could only mean one thing.

Hermione was friends with Draco Malfoy.

It would take more than torture to make her confess that aloud, and she could bet both her hands that he would never say such a thing either, but … It was true nonetheless.

When had that happened? In the course of what? A couple of weeks?

She frowned and counted on her fingers, attracting an awkward look from the concerned ashen blond man. They'd started oddly meeting, at first, a month or so before. Around commemoration.

It had taken a month and a fortnight, a couple of drinks, and a few talks to crush a decade of tumultuous history.

And to be honest – only in the privacy of her mind though – she was glad.

She lifted her gaze to him and met his eyes. He was still frowning, watching her with a confusion that said she'd gone mad, his anger gone.

"What's going on in that bushy head of yours?" He wondered aloud, his cloudy irises going from her face to her hands.

"I was just thinking that …"

* * *

After thinking for the longest minutes of his life that he'd lost her, as he'd argued with Astoria, all that over her sodding stupid sister he hadn't even enjoyed the company of, Blaise had realised how much she counted. He'd practically begged at her feet just as Hermione had suggested. He'd even confessed having seen Sherry once before they'd called it official, and sworn that since then he'd had no one. She'd been too upset over this though.

He'd been too upset over this too and had almost confessed something he hadn't even told himself, something that scared the crap out of him a lot more than anything else.

But then, her father had come to them. Mr Greengrass didn't look so impeccable when he was displeased. He'd started reprimanding them for making a scene, and things had gone wrong.

He'd told his daughter that her choice in acquaintances was 'poor' and that she was a shame. Blaise had felt himself on the verge to curse the old man.

But then, he'd listened to a very revolted Astoria tell her own father that whatever he thought about her acquaintances, he could stuff somewhere someone should never mention to their father. Of course some of the guests had heard.

And, as Mr Greengrass' reaction to the insubordination and insolence of his daughter, had been to grab her wrist, Blaise had jumped in front of her, warning the man not to touch his girlfriend.

Thus confessing their relationship to the patriarch and a good dozen of guests.

The disgusting chivalry had had a few benefits though. Astoria's father had stormed off in such a bout of anger he'd practically shoved off his path a guest or two, and Astoria had suddenly been very, very quiet. And then, very, very forgiving.

He'd realised as she'd practically jumped on him in the corridor that he didn't give a damn about the consequences of announcing a relationship to a very conservative father, or to the entire wizarding community for that matter.

She was more than worth it. Her tongue alone was worth it.

After the heat of the moment had passed though, they'd both realised they weren't alone in the world and had left Hermione and more importantly Draco in the middle of a disapproving crowd.

They started looking for them around the hall, the ballroom – where it was very difficult to pretend not to receive looks – and finally spotted them on the balcony, away from the party.

"Wait." Astoria stopped him as they reached the glass doors. Draco was supporting his weight on the banister, and Hermione had her back to the gardens. They were talking, closely.

At Astoria's wink, they waited a moment, and when the conversation seemed to flatten, and Hermione to calculate something with her fingers, Astoria gestured that it was time to interrupt. Blaise opened the doors to the balcony and they entered.

Both Draco and Hermione jumped and Astoria took a step further and started explaining right away:

"We've kind of made a scene."

"What happened?" Frowned Hermione.

"Err … I'll explain but apparently my father didn't appreciate my choice in acquaintances …"

"Why did you even invite me Greengrass?" Draco scowled, his previous smile vanished. He was in a fabulous mood now.

"I'm sorry Draco alright? I didn't think they'd be this … I thought people had moved on but obviously …" Stori started explaining.

"People are judgemental morons." Cut Hermione, unknowingly including Mr Greengrass in her speech. Blaise was surprised to see that Stori agreed anyway:

"Exactly. Look I was thinking …"

"Another brilliant idea?" Draco snarled. Astoria didn't retaliate the sarcasm:

"I just want to show that _we_ don't judge you."

"I'm not your charity case Greengrass." He drawled in answer, taking a step to leave.

"No. You're my friend and no one treats my friends badly." She countered, the threat in her voice making him stop. Blaise shared a look with Hermione then. Her fond smile was similar to his.

Draco seemed mute now and as he remained rooted to the spot, Hermione asked Astoria:

"What did you think about?"

"We trade partners. You're muggle-born and …Well if there's someone they can't argue with, it's you Hermione."

Judging by her face Blaise doubted she'd agree. When she spoke though, he realised her concerns were only for Draco's reputation:

"Err …Yes I suppose but …" She turned to Draco. "Maybe more attention isn't so much of a good idea."

"It isn't. I can walk out of here by myself Green …" Draco started but corrected himself abruptly at Stori's glare. He found her scary too apparently. "Astoria."

"Alright, it's your decision." Stori granted.

As she came back to Blaise to take his arm, he had an idea. It was a risky bet, Hermione was kind of unpredictable, but if it worked …

"Does this mean you let both women take my arms mate?" He asked.

"I don't care. I just want to fuck off this place already." was Draco's curt answer.

"Alright." Blaise shrugged, trying not to smirk. "Hermione, come, let's become the most famous threesome in history."

Blaise found he enjoyed a bit too much both nerds' wide eyes, as well as the way Stori was trying not to burst out laughing. He tried not to either but it revealed a difficult task.

Hermione was the first to recover:

"I don't think so."

"Why? It could be fun."

And that's when it worked. Draco rolled his eyes and extended his arm to Hermione:

"Don't ridicule yourself Granger. I'll walk you out of this hell place." She had a short hesitation and he added, suddenly uncertain and lowering his arm a bit: "Unless you'd rather …"

"God no. Of course, I'll walk with you." She snapped and then finally grabbed his arm. Blaise saw the little relieved smile Draco quickly hid.

"We were right." Astoria murmured at his side, as they walked towards the entrance hall a few steps after the new 'gossip couple'.

"Yes and you didn't see it all." Blaise smirked.

"What?"

"He gawped at her when we arrived." He mirthfully revealed. A mischievous and obviously unwilling little laugh escaped her lips:

"I knew that dress would work." Then though, she frowned: "You know that this is kind of up to us, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"They're both so stubborn that if we don't help it's going to take ages."

Blaise considered that a moment, and then cocked his head to a side as Granger glared openly at the director of the most prolific quill company in the entire country, Hasting, who had been looking at them with insistence. Draco at her side was smirking his face off in provocation.

"I don't know, they make quite the pair." He answered. At those words, the gossip couple passed Rita Skeeter and as the wicked but useful bitch assessed them for head to toe with contempt, Blaise saw Draco lift a hand to put atop Granger's on his arm and his smirk morphed in a threatening drawl.

Yes, there was definitely something going on there. On either side.

They took their first step outside, Blaise thinking that Granger could do a lot of good to Draco. And if one day Draco ever returned to the friend Blaise had first felt so drawn to, to the witty sarcastic bastard, he could do a lot of good to Granger too.

Although she looked better those days, he still wondered what had happened to her. With Astoria, they had hypothesis that were each more horrid than the others.

The fact that Draco knew, and had never betrayed her secret, only meant that it had touched him enough to protect it for her. Hence how significant it had to be.

Because one thing people didn't know was that under the petulant and weary man, was a very loyal and intricate heart. Someone beyond clever, hard-working, protective and strong.

When his grandma had died, Draco had brought Blaise back to his place, poured the firewhiskey and said nothing. He'd patted his shoulder and had let Blaise cry all night. He'd never mentioned it. And the next day, he'd taken Blaise out for drinks and girls even though he was such a nerd he hated it. He'd spent the next year following Blaise around in bars. Never, ever complaining.

Granger could definitely use someone like that. Someone who would just be there and protect her, whether she needed it or not, someone that wouldn't let go of her – contrary to her Gryffindor poor excuses for friends – someone supportive of her and what she did. Draco had the brains to follow her, they could really levitate forks together.

Blaise lowered his gaze to Astoria as they reached the path to the gates. She was frowning, but watching Hermione and Draco closely. Blaise didn't care any more about what they were or more certainly weren't doing. Her hairdo was all messed up, her raven hair pooling around her face, her dark eyes assessing their common friends with a smile.

She was the first woman to ever do more than just nod politely at his best friend. The first ever to take them both in. And he'd almost screwed it up.

She seemed to feel his gaze and lifted a smile to him. Blaise felt suddenly immensely lucky.

* * *

Draco turned around when Granger released his arm with a small smile, suddenly needing to focus on something else than the fact he'd taken her hand. Blaise was hugging Astoria as if his life depended on it.

"I think he's been a little scared." Granger said, chuckling.

"She is scary."

"Perfect for Blaise then." Draco only hummed in response but he agreed more than that. He was glad Blaise had finally found someone scary enough to bear with him. Someone he finally liked enough to stop fooling around with the whole female wizarding community.

Someone who had just pissed off her father because he, Draco Malfoy, was her _friend_.

Draco lowered his gaze to Granger then, who was watching the couple fondly.

He realised when she turned that same fond smile to him, why she'd pushed for him to confide in her, why she'd glared so fiercely at Hasting or why she'd been so revolted when he'd let go and told her how he felt. Why she'd been so pissed at Pansy.

She didn't only care about breaking the oath, as the challenge he thought she saw in it, she cared about him too.

Which was exactly why he'd defended her too, to Potter or his wife, to Skeeter, or Pansy. Why he'd helped her or asked how she felt earlier.

He could criticise Blaise, he was friends with Granger too, wasn't he?

He bet no one, not even Trelawney would have predicted that.

When she disapparated at the gates after being pecked on the cheek by Astoria, he prepared himself to go too and retrieved his wand. He hadn't expected Astoria to peck him on the cheek too.

"Liked the dress, didn't you?" Oh Salazar, not her too. He disapparated without answering, but not missing the couple's laughter.


	34. Chapter 34

Sunday, June 15th, 2003.

 _Malfoy,_

 _Have you received anything about what happened Friday? Any proof that they won't continue? If not, I might consider sending a control team, just to make sure they understood. Let me know if there's still nothing before tomorrow._

 _Also, I wondered if you'd planned another trip to your library? If not, it's no big deal, but since I'll be in court all week and won't be able to work on your issue as much as I would like, maybe you could look a few things up for me?_

 _I'm planning a trip to Hogwarts next week-end, but in the meantime, if you ever found anything on ways to trap large amounts of magic in an object, or ways to make two layers of magic not only co-exist but interact, it would be a start._

 _H. Granger_

 **OOO**

 _Granger,_

 _I was about to write, I received a charmed note last night which I quote 'Forget we ever met. Tell her' so no need for another control or anything, it's fine now. Thanks to you._

 _I actually planned to go back to the library tomorrow, I've reviewed everything I brought back the last time. I joined my notes to this letter, but I doubt there's anything relevant. I'll let you know if I find anything you asked about. Don't overwork yourself while you're in court though Granger, as Greengrass said, there's time now._

 _D. Malfoy_

 _P.S: Skeeter mentioned us and the new official couple in the Sunday Prophet (gossip section). Nothing really bad though. I expected a few comments but she only mentioned your position and my being an ex-death-eater. Thought you might want to know since you don't read the papers._

* * *

Monday, June 16th, 2003.

Draco had been on his usual stool at the Leaky Cauldron for now fifteen minutes. It seemed as though being officially taken had brought Blaise's bad habits back. The lad was late. Of course.

The stool was very uncomfortable, the smell of sweat beyond nauseating and the counter as questionably looking as ever. Draco felt his impatience grow worse with each passing second. How was it that in all those years they hadn't managed to find somewhere else?

He hadn't ordered, and didn't intend to drink anything for once - he was also wondering if he'd even eat. Postponing paperwork the previous week had been a very bad idea and, since he still intended to help Granger as much as he could, he didn't have time neither to deal with a hangover, neither to wait for Blaise for ever.

Plus, being there, watching Tom's bald scalp wrinkle as he pretended to clean something felt somehow … odd. As if he hadn't been in there in ages, although the last time had probably been less than a week before.

He was taking a break from work but … He wasn't inebriated, neither worried about when Nott would write.

Most of all he could imagine the end of the tunnel now, and even if they weren't any closer to break the oath, he had hopes Granger would, which felt alien. Not in a bad way though.

Blaise arrived about thirty two minutes and forty five seconds late. He didn't bother with apologies and instead tossed Draco a piece of paper even before sitting down.

"Read this."

Draco obliged.

 _Scandal at the Greengrass yearly charity party!_

 _The Zabini-Granger pretended idyll already ending!_

 _The well-awaited yearly charity event Mrs Eugenia Greengrass hosted this week-end has been perturbed by none other than our most adored ex-bachelor, Blaise Zabini._

 _Although the handsome man arrived arms in arms with Hermione Granger - who for the first time ever recorded wore a Witchety forest green dress from the incredible 'flawless' collection (featured page seven) - it seems as though our favourite gentleman has finally recovered his mental faculties._

Draco chuckled at that and received a glare before returning to the article.

 _The party had only gotten started, when said ex-bachelor grabbed the attention of the entire crème de la crème, by announcing to Mr Greengrass himself, his relationship with none other than the man's youngest daughter, the gorgeous Astoria Greengrass._

 _Although the witch is known to have always drifted apart from the family, our team feels as though she is a much better choice for the gentleman. Both from the same background, well-educated and equally beautiful, they make quite the fashionable pair. It is a relief that our jealousy can't surpass._

 _But what about Granger, you'd ask._

 _Well, the manipulative witch must have forgotten that love potions and alcohol don't play good together. She was left publicly humiliated in the most important wizarding event of the year._

 _Our very smart head of Law Enforcement knew to rebound quickly though._

 _If the ridicule weren't enough, she proved being petty too._

 _As soon as the announcement was made, she was seen at another man's arm, and not just any man._

 _Blaise Zabini's best friend, Draco Malfoy, ex-death-eater pardoned after the war, owner of his own company and, of course, very handsome Malfoy bachelor, is who Miss Granger has set her sight on._

 _It didn't take more than a few minutes for the witch to take grip on the man, whose reputation has yet to be lifted – although we, at Witch Weekly, think his hair is reason enough for him to be a suitable fiancé._

 _Malfoys are well known for their cleverness though, and when we guessed that Zabini had been manipulated by the brightest witch of their age, we can't say that this is the case here._

 _Our bet is that having a muggle-born on his arm would lift the ex-death-eater's reputation, as much as it avenged the humiliation Granger was victim of, and helped her at least save appearances as they were seen leaving the party together._

 _However, it is well-known that Granger and Malfoy were school rivals and whatever agreement they'd come to, it sure doesn't involve any romantic feelings. If Malfoy saw a way to lift his reputation though, he might get disappointed._

 _We can only wait to see more of them to confirm our speculations. Until then, let's all feel relieved for Mr Zabini._

When Draco eventually lifted his face from the paper, Blaise had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"So." He said. "Got some sort of agreement with Hermione?" Draco found his no non-sense tone rather irritating.

"Apparently."

"What kind of agreement eh?" He smirked.

"We agree that sometimes you need some serious arse kicking." That had the benefit to cut his smile, he even grimaced and Draco didn't wait for him to find something obnoxious to say to continue: "So, officially with Green … Astoria then? When's the _wedding_?" He mocked with a fail attempt at wriggling his eyebrows as Blaise always did. He settled for a smirk and a superior face instead.

"Err … Shut it." Blaise pouted, gesturing for Tom to come take their order.

"How did you manage to get forgiven by the way?"

* * *

Hermione had spent her Sunday afternoon reviewing Draco's notes. She'd sent Pansy and Theodore's wands back only late in the evening though. It had been petty but she had no pity for the two atrocious blackmailers. Plus, casually calling her mudblood in the street deserved far more than a week-end without magic. She'd been clement. Maybe she should have waited more, which had been all she'd thought about until she reached the Ministry that Monday morning.

As soon as she saw Tracey though, she was reminded as if given the eighth leg that the Montgomery trial was starting the next morning. The witch was early, as usual, and already running back and forth between the usual paperwork and Astoria's office.

Draco's oath would have to wait. Hermione had to concentrate and couldn't afford to get distracted by anything else but work. She set herself on work mode and forgot about it entirely. Or so she told herself.

After spending the entire morning thoroughly reviewing everything they'd prepared for the trial, and not being nearly done by midday, Tracey had interrupted them with salads and Thank Merlin for Tracey Davis because Hermione had forgotten about breakfast. Again.

Astoria's hair was messed up, and whether it was because of Blaise, or because she'd been working her arse off all morning too, she seemed to have forgotten about her breakfast as well.

Hermione had only taken a bite though, that Astoria gasped as if having an epiphany, and started rummaging through her attaché-case. She got out a copy of the last Witch Weekly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She'd forgotten about that. Of course they couldn't only be mentioned by Rita. Astoria smirked and gestured for her to start reading. She obliged, pushing aside the salad and grabbing the paper Astoria was handing her.

She read the article under the pretty witch's inquisitive stare.

When she was done, she sighed. At least she wasn't a manipulative bitch any more. Now she was only petty and vindictive. Of course there was no word about the way Draco had been treated all afternoon. Apparently he couldn't be anything more than an ex-death-eater, eager to lift his reputation by using her, whether his hair was worth it or not. Those people were scum. Superficial, prejudiced, judgemental scum.

Hermione growled, and took a peek at page seven to calm her nerves. There was a picture of her, in the right hand corner. A picture of her, just before she met Derrick, alone before the buffet tables, watching the décor. Obviously trying to hide her amazement at the enchanted candles and flowers under a disapproving frown hadn't worked. _Great._

The rest of the double page showed the dress on a very tall and complexing witch, with a very complicated hairdo and so much make-up Hermione had trouble understanding, as well as the rest of the 'flawless' collection. The good thing was that aside from the picture, there was no comment about her. She looked mesmerised and stupid, but pretty enough. Hermione guessed those were the criteria required to be left alone. Be pretty and stupid and Witch Weekly praised you.

"So, with pretty Malfoy now?" Hermione snapped out of her thoughts with Astoria's smirk.

"Err … apparently." She scowled although she didn't really mind. It wasn't true after all and it had shocked enough of those tight-arsed judgemental idiots that it was worth it.

"Blaise is really disappointed that you ruined his threesome idea. Why did you have to grip at Draco like that?" Hermione snapped her mouth closed. Something had twitched in Astoria's eyes. She decided that she wouldn't get played again. Astoria was smart though, so changing the subject was in order.

"Well at least you're officially with him now. Forgave him already?"

"Err …" Astoria grimaced and Hermione saw her opportunity to completely change the subject.

"You didn't?" She asked, knowing perfectly well that she had.

"Of course I did, it's just that he …"

* * *

"Seriously? Chivalry?" Draco asked.

"Well, said like that …" Blaise grimaced.

"You're turning into a Gryffindor mate." Draco smirked, ready to push the point even further but Blaise was quicker:

"I am not. He was pissed off and he took her by the arm …"

"It's her father." Draco cut. Surely Astoria hadn't needed his intervention.

Blaise cocked an eyebrow at him and watched him intently for a few seconds before saying: "Doesn't mean anything." Draco had no wish to speak about his own father though, and whatever miserable role model he'd been, he'd never been physically violent.

"He never laid hands on me." He said in a final tone.

"Right he was a dear." Blaise sneered but took the hint and changed the subject: "Where are you in your research by the way? I'll be home tomorrow night, I can help."

"Would be nice." Draco nodded. "I'm going to fetch some more books at the Manor tonight. Granger asked about layering magic, maybe I'll be lucky."

"She wrote?" Blaise asked, a start of an irritating smirk on his mouth.

"Yes, yesterday, to ask about Nott." Draco specified, better safe than sorry.

"Oh. What did you answer?" The smirk was there now, and Draco realised that Blaise would push that subject again.

"I sent his note and told her that I'll fetch the books." He sighed.

"Nothing else?"

"No." He warned.

"Really? No love note?" Blaise grinned.

"Oh sod off Blaise, it's getting old." Here, now he was exasperated.

"Really? Here I thought you'd finally stopped denying." Blaise shrugged, pretending to return to his lunch.

"Denying _what_ exactly?"

"That you drooled at her Saturday." Draco froze a second, the bastard didn't even lift his face from his plate.

"Wh … Fuck you! I didn't!" He half-shrieked.

"Right and I'm ugly." Blaise chuckled.

"That you are."

"Nope. And she's not either, isn't she?" Now he was making his eyebrows dance like the moron he was.

"Would you stop that?" Draco hissed in starting anger.

"Nope. Not until you …"

"Stop that Blaise." He warned.

"Admit it at least! I doesn't mean anything but stop …"

"Why would I? So you could piss me off even further?"

"I'll shut up about it if you admit you find her pretty." That grin was the most infuriating thing Draco had ever seen.

"You're so fucking …" He growled.

"Come on! What's the big deal? You can't lie to me anyway mate. I saw you gawp at her." Great. Just great. That sodding dress.

"And what? What do you fucking care how I find her?" He barked.

"I like her. She's nice. She's my girlfriend's closest friend. We're friends." He said as if it justified anything.

"And?"

"And she's doing a lot for you right now and with what that bullshit paper says … I mean the fact that Potty and Weasel will probably choke is a good thing, but what they say about her …"

"I know what she's doing for me Blaise. I don't need the reminder." Draco reassured, and then asked: "I fail to see what this has got to do with …"

"You had her on your arm mate! And you didn't even do the polite thing and compliment her on her dress or something. I know you found her pretty! I mean I can understand that you have trouble being nice and all, but that was _mean_. Manners mate, even if she hadn't been pretty, a man says something." Blaise was frowning now, concerned apparently. Draco sighed:

"I did, you just didn't hear." Draco realised his mistake at Blaise's face. He'd been manipulated. Like Blaise cared about manners. He ate like a pig.

"You did?" He smirked with so much mirth Draco decided it was about time this conversation ended.

"Yes. Because she was pretty and I'm not an utter moron. I can see. Alright? Now leave that alone before I hex the shit out of you!"

"Alright. Alright." Blaise said, lifting both hands in surrender. Of course he kept talking: "Sorry … I just found it rude."

"Err … it was. I almost didn't." Draco confessed, remembering the way she'd drawn her eyes to her feet when he'd complimented Astoria. He'd been an idiot.

"Too busy drooling?" Damn. How did he manage to make him speak like that?

"Shut up."

"Smart retort."

"Wan …" Draco paused, and frowned: "We always have the same conversations. It's seriously getting old."

"Maybe if you weren't this stubborn the conversation wouldn't be this redundant."

"What?"

"Never mind."

* * *

"So what, you jumped on him?" Hermione asked, feeling instantly stupid. With the way Blaise's bow-tie had been hanging from his shirt, and the state of Astoria's hairdo when they'd interrupted her conversation with Draco, it was evident she had.

"Well … you have no idea but …" Astoria sighed, and then explained: "I've always been in conflict with my father. He's not nearly as traditional as the Malfoys for instance, but he wanted an arranged marriage for my sister and I before the war. He's never truly accepted that I moved out of the house, or that I have a job either. Having Blaise step up and tell him that he's my boyfriend … I mean, we are definitely not there yet. We still spend our time in bed and …"

"I don't need details." Hermione cut just in case.

"Right. I mean it's just the beginning and … Well you know him. A month ago he was shagging my sister and now he's announced to my very traditional father that we're dating. And he knows how this works. It's a big step he took."

Indeed it was a big step. Even Hermione knew that pureblood's traditions were very different from muggle's. They married very young, hence her early marriage with Ron, and announcing a relationship to the patriarch was as good as asking for the daughter's hand. Maybe Astoria wasn't ready for that.

"You're not happy with it?" Hermione asked.

"I am. I didn't expect it but I am." Astoria gave with a small smile.

"Then I'm glad. You two really found each other. Equally sneaky and all."

"Yes." Astoria chuckled. She poked at her salad a minute and then asked: "What about you by the way? I heard you met Derrick."

"Oh my god." Escaped Hermione's lips as she remembered the encounter.

"I hope you'll target higher." Astoria grimaced.

"Fuck yes." Hermione snapped.

"Yeah, find some pretty prat somewhere to make you forget all about your ex-ginger-prat." Oh that wasn't good. Hermione opened a very offended mouth but was spared the trouble by Tracey.

She came in with their Prime Minister, who looked strangely out of sorts, and things went back to work the instant.

* * *

Tuesday, June 17th, 2003.

Draco had come early from work after spending the day trying to catch up with his paperwork, and failing. He didn't really care though, and started working on what Granger had asked him as soon as he'd taken his shoes off. He'd retrieved about twenty books from the Manor the previous night but hadn't been able to concentrate once home. His father's portrait had followed him all the way to the library and he'd gone to bed as soon as he'd been home. So he had better start right away.

The task revealed tremendously complicated.

When Blaise arrived, Draco had only perused through half the first book, and he was already close to pulling his hair off his skull. The lad sat, rolled his sleeves up and started helping without comment, which Draco found rather relieving, if odd.

He only noticed what Blaise had put on the couch when he was finished with the book. Blaise smirked his face off and tossed the copy of Witch Weekly to Draco again. It was the same paper than the previous day, but at another page. Page seven to be precise. Draco realised he was staring when Blaise chuckled.

That sodding dress.

He tossed the paper back to Blaise's face.

The fact that the lad only laughed and didn't comment, or that he neatly stacked the copy under his notes, Draco decided to ignore.

They kept working between glares and chuckles and eventually Blaise lost himself in a scroll.

Draco jumped when he threw it aside a half hour later.

"This is bullshit." He fumed. "Way too complicated. How can you ever be sure you don't miss something she'll find useful?"

"I can't. That's why I take notes of almost anything." Draco sighed, showing the quill in his hand.

"Why don't you work with her? Wouldn't it be easier?" Blaise asked. Surely it would, but it wasn't possible. They both had _jobs_ , something Blaise knew nothing about.

"She's in court all week and even so, I'm not going to make her work at night." He explained.

"Like it's not what she does anyway." Blaise snorted.

"She does whatever she wants, I won't ask her to." Especially since she'd probably do it.

"Yeah well … still, what we're doing is useless if she has to review these all over again." Blaise made a point. "Maybe we could have her over?" He offered. Draco could see he repressed his smirk. That idiot would never let it go.

"I just told you …""

"Not at night. Saturday? Look, Stori could help too. She knows and she works with Hermione now … I mean all the help we can …"

"I don't know." Draco cut.

"I can always ask." He shrugged. "It would save her time. At this rate she won't find a thing before next commemoration."

"Err …"

"Plus it's either she finds something or you have to find a wife."

Draco glared at him, the fact that it was true only inflating his annoyance. Blaise added: "You know? A nice cripple?"

"Shut the fuck up with that." Draco hissed.

"Saturday then?" Blaise offered again with a satisfied smile.

"Saturday." Draco growled-agreed.

"Good. Don't worry, I won't mention how pretty you find her." Blaise smirked but then: "Fuck what was that for?"

Draco clenched and unclenched his fist. That had felt _good_.

"Ever mention that again or the word cripple and I'll aim for your balls." He threatened.

"Alright." Blaise surrendered, at tad too easily. That punch in the shoulder couldn't have hurt that much.

"Really?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"Well I wish to remain whole."

"For the wedding?"

"Shut it."

Draco chuckled, he'd won this one.

His will to hit the lad only resurfaced when he eventually went to bed that night, long after Blaise had given up. He'd just buried himself under the covers and was taking care of burying his face in the pillow, when his hand found the copy of Witch Weekly tucked under it. That was just the fucking drop. He shoved the covers at the foot of the bed and stood, ready to go hex the shit out of Blaise. He stopped in his tracks before reaching the door though. Too tired for this shit. Instead, he locked the copy in his desk. Blaise wouldn't go in there. He could always buy another one but Draco doubted he'd bother.

The fact that he could have just shot an incendio at the offending page seven only brushed his mind but he pretended it hadn't before going back to bed.

* * *

Hermione walked out of court late that evening. The first day of trial was always when she tested the water and if the smile on her face was of any indication, she could say that she was on the good path with this trial.

Astoria was a genius, Tracey too, and even though Hermione had neglected her work the previous week - whether no one but her would consider her skipping of the usual working week-end, neglecting - things looked good. Apparently the third, fourth and fifth reviewing weren't that much of a necessity.

It was confident that she'd manage to win the case that she took the lift to Kingsley's office.

Her confidence vanished abruptly as soon as she took her first step to the Prime Minister floor. The secretary had already gone home, but someone she only remembered then having seen in Mysteries the previous week, was walking out of Kingsley's office.

Arthur Weasley, his step rather sharp, stopped in his tracks when he saw her. Hermione froze on the spot. She hadn't been face to face with her ex-father-in-law in months, and had no idea what to expect of the encounter.

Arthur was a wise and kind man though, and he nodded politely, his eyes as warm as they'd always been. He didn't smile though. He always smiled. Hermione gulped and nodded too.

He disappeared in the lift without a word and Hermione shook her head before knocking at Kingsley's door.

What was he doing here anyway? What had he been doing in court the previous week?

She swallowed back her questions at Kingsley's face though. He was in such a mood that she decided against asking anything and went for reporting the day's trial instead.

* * *

Thursday, June 19th, 2003.

Blaise arrived at Astoria's that evening, after a day of trying to look through Draco's new library. In _his_ living-room. He'd taken a few notes, not really knowing what he'd been doing, so it was in a rather irritated mood that he realised that Astoria wasn't there yet.

He decided to wait for her in the living with a bottle of wine ready.

She came back before he could arrange himself in a compromising position. Shame.

"Hi." Her hair was a mess but she was smiling.

"Trial's good?" He asked.

"Yeah. Hermione's a genius. She managed to have them recede. They were asking for an arrangement which only means their defence is shallow. She pushed them off. I think we'll be done by the end of the week."

"You're assisting?" He startled.

"Yes, she got me a seat! I didn't even know!" Blaise had never seen Stori this enthusiastic. She seemed thrilled and she had reasons to.

"Woah that's great! Congratulations."

"Thank you!" She grinned and Blaise found the sight … gorgeous. He owed one to Hermione.

Stori tossed her attache-case in a corner of the room, kicked her shoes off, but just when she reached the couch to kiss him, an owl came tapping at the window.

"Sit, I'll take care of it." He said, and got his kiss before she let herself drop on the couch. It was the day's prophet. "You have it delivered now?" He frowned.

"Eh? What is it?" She asked from the couch.

"The prophet."

"No." Astoria stood and grabbed the paper from Blaise's hands. There was a short note tucked in it.

"What's that?"

"Pansy's cousin." She frowned, reading it.

"And what does that wanker want?" Blaise started but she only patted his cheek condescendingly:

"Cute. If I cheated on you, trust me, you wouldn't know."

"Funny." He scowled, she chuckled and eventually explained the note:

"After I went there for Weasley's interview I asked him to let me know if anything happened."

"Oh. And what happened?"

"Potter went there again. Although he says he doesn't know why. He sent the day's paper in case I find anything."

Blaise followed Astoria back to the couch as she let her incisive eyes seek for gossips. She didn't even pause to bury herself against him and crush his arm into the backrest. She seemed rather disappointed when she closed the paper though.

"There's nothing." She said. "If Potter went there I doubt it was to have something published anyway."

Blaise hummed in response and took the paper from her to read it too. He stopped at page two.

"Here. Look at this." .

The Auror office had arrested yet another delinquent. What was oddly relevant was the shape the man had been in when sent directly to Azkaban to wait for his trial. Not pretty. Astoria turned around, crushing his arm even further in the plush cushion and once she'd seen what he was showing, cocked an eyebrow at him:

"Well?"

"Well don't you think it's weird? It's the second time in what? Two weeks?"

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"Weird." She frowned. After a thoughtful moment she asked: "You think … could it be Weasley?"

"I don't know but if Potter went there personally …" Blaise didn't finish his sentence that Astoria cut:

"Shit."

"Does Hermione read this?" He wondered.

"No, she's too busy between court and Draco's oath anyway."

"People talk maybe you should …" He started.

"No. I won't tell her anything I'm not certain of. She doesn't need to worry about that idiot." She said curtly.

"Mm. Maybe we're overreaction anyway. It could be any of his cronies." Blaise shrugged although he was more trying to convince himself rather than her.

"Exactly." She muttered.

"You …"

"I'll dig yes." She nodded.

"Good. Don't do it Saturday though we're all working on Draco's oath at my place."

"Are we?" She asked.

"Yes. Tell Hermione."

"Alright." Now she smirked. Good. The evening could start.

* * *

Friday, June 20th, 2003.

Draco came back home around nine o'clock that evening, expecting a silent apartment, and a night of working. Instead he found Blaise and Astoria talking over dinner in the kitchen, a spare plate waiting for him.

"Hi!" She greeted him. He frowned, they never spent the night there. He refrained from asking what the hell they were doing here. It wasn't his place after all, and the witch showed him the spare plate and asked : "You like stew?" with a smile.

"Yes." He wasn't one to refuse the first solid and warm meal of the week.

She nodded with a smile and started talking to Blaise again, while filling his plate. Draco kicked his shoes off and hung his coat at the back of the couch before joining them.

"So, I was saying that it will be done by Monday. They're deliberating over the week-end. Hermione was confident until they sealed the date for deliberations though. She said that it's too quick to be a good sign."

"What do you think?" Blaise asked.

"That she rocked it. You should see her in court she's impressive. She practically recited a whole book of Laws today. I mean … We helped her a great deal with the planning and everything but she's just an encyclopedia. She didn't need us at all. She didn't look once at her notes."

"Well … It's no surprise." Blaise shrugged. Draco could only nod at that. Astoria gave him his plate and they all resumed eating. The stew was home-made. She could come over any time she wanted.

"You'll see her in action tomorrow anyway." She added, turning to Draco.

"Wh …Oh, right." He'd forgotten about that.

"Where are you in your research? She asked this morning."

"Oh. Err … nowhere." He scowled.

"Well she's arranged a trip to Hogwarts if we don't find anything."

"Yes she said she'll go." He nodded, remembering her letter.

"Well now we're all going apparently."

"Really?" He startled.

"Yes. She said she asked McGonagall." Astoria shrugged.

"Oh." Draco had never imagined he'd be going back to Hogwarts. He dreaded the encounter with the old Headmistress. After all he hadn't talked to her since the war, and had pointedly avoided her at Ministry events.

The fact that Granger had included them in her research though, made him feel a tad less useless than what he'd felt all week while taking random and useless notes. Maybe working together the next day would actually speed things up.

* * *

The conversation deflated quickly once their stomach were full. Draco went to bed early, after Astoria had managed to praise Hermione's prowesses in court once more.

"An encyclopedia? Don't you think you went a little far?" Blaise asked once they were settled on his couch for once. Stori smirked, shaking her head:

"I don't. See, the best is that I didn't even lie. It's all true."

"Sure. I don't think that your little strategy will work though." Blaise taunted.

"Oh, and why is that?" She spoke sceptically.

"Because he looked like he couldn't care less." Blaise shrugged.

"Leave it time." She dismissed. Then she frowned at Blaise's little smirk.

"You know what didn't need time to make him react?" He asked trying not to sound too pleased with himself.

"No but you're about to tell me."

"I showed him page seven of Witch Weekly." He just said.

"And?"

"He threw it to my face." He gave with a false pout.

"Efficient then. I'll stick to praise if you don't mind." She mocked, a tad too early.

"Wait that's not all." Blaise added and now he couldn't repress the smirk that took his mouth. Her beautiful dark eyes widened.

"What did you do?" She asked in a tremulous voice. Blaise tried for a toneless one:

"I tucked it under his pillow."

"And?"

He shrugged mischievously and took his time to answer:

"And I don't know, he didn't say a word or didn't shove it in my face again."

"He kept it?" She extolled, managing to keep her voice down.

"Locked in the desk." He whispered.

"Oh my you're a genius." She squeaked.

"I know. Shall I receive my price then?"

"Only if you know a very good silencing charm." She bit her lower lip and the only noise they were sure Draco heard that night, was when she shrieked in surprise as Blaise scooped her up in his arms to run to the bedroom. He silenced the door then. No need to brag.


	35. Chapter 35

Saturday, June 21st, 2003.

Part one: collective-working encounter.

Hermione flooed herself to Blaise's place around nine o'clock that morning, her bag full of shrunk scrolls and books. She dusted her robes after landing and took a step in Blaise's living, somehow feeling a tad strange to come here invited this time.

"Good morning!" Astoria's voice welcomed her and she let her bag down on the floor to turn to the kitchen.

She had no idea what she'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't what was going on. Draco was moodily sulking on his stool, a cup of coffee in his hands, while both Astoria and Blaise were apparently still having breakfast, both wearing matching smirks Hermione found not to be a very good sign. Whatever they'd done to Draco though, she didn't really want to know.

"Ready to work?" Blaise asked in a tone full of insinuations Hermione judged preferable not to speculate about.

"Yes." She answered warily, and he chuckled, wriggling his eyebrows at Draco. The last growled and Hermione quit watching Blaise suspiciously to turn to him.

"Wanker." She heard him mutter under his breath as he turned his back to Blaise, directing a very small greeting smile to her:

"Tea?" He asked, pushing aside the coffee pot.

"Yes please." He didn't ask how she took it. Hermione was still surprised he remembered exactly how when he took both their mugs to the living, ignoring Blaise and Astoria's quiet sniggering with a scowl. Hermione joined him as he put down their beverages on the coffee table and sat directly on the floor in the middle of a giant mess she just noticed. There were books and scrolls all over the place again. One of the scrolls had a quill tucked in it. Hermione took it and recognised Draco's neatly looped handwriting. Without looking up from the notes, she sat on the floor too, accioed her own notes, and tossed them his way.

That's how they started the day, drowning themselves in notes and documents, working in peaceful silence. Blaise and Astoria apparently decided against perturbing the atmosphere. They joined them a few minutes later and started going through whatever they found. Although Hermione doubted Blaise knew what he was doing. His disconcerted frown was quite the sight. She had to hide her mocking smile under Draco's notes. She wouldn't perturb the calm atmosphere if she could help it, they had an oath to break.

Besides, Draco had found really interesting details that, if alone didn't seem relevant, when linked to her own notes …

It appeared as though no matter the kind of magic, when multiples charms/spells/curses were combined into one single object, you could - the conditional being the key part of the sentence - if you managed to find counter-charms/spells/curses for each layer of magic, you could deconstruct the whole magical object.

It would take a tremendous amount of work, a thorough study of every step Lucius Malfoy had taken to build the contract, but there was no mention of it being impossible anywhere.

The only tricky, awful, frustrating thing, was that it was blood magic, and that it might involve Draco at some point.

Hermione needed to study the oath itself, its magic, the way it worked, how it moved, and try to recognise every little layer of magic. Then, she'd have to work on breaking each and every layer. One by one. Baby steps.

Which could take years, she realised. Even with Draco's help. His notes were precise, followed with hypothesis and linked together sometimes. His note taking process was very similar to hers she noticed.

They could work faster together.

She lifted her face to him. He was watching her with a frown. His eyes shifted to her notes, and back to her again. Apparently he'd noticed too. She smiled and he smiled back.

Hermione hastily occupied herself with accioing the oath from her bag, adverting her eyes away from the smile. She opened it and started perusing it quickly. She had no idea where to start. Should she poke at it? Maybe prior incantatem would work?

"What are you thinking?" He asked.

"Well … I have the theory. In practise though, I have no idea where to start."

"Layer by layer." He muttered thoughtfully. Blaise and Astoria had lifted their gaze from their pages. "I didn't see him make it. I have no idea what comes first …"

"Prior incantatem." A white flare of magic sprouted from her wand and landed on the front page of the oath. Draco seemed suddenly as expectant as she was. For three seconds.

"Well that was productive." Muttered Blaise. Hermione ignored him entirely while Draco glared at him for them both. She had just remembered that the last layer would be the blood signature and that she couldn't start with that. A magical signature was already irremovable, let alone a blood one. It was irrevocable. She would have to start from the first layer and move her way up. The signature wouldn't matter in the end if it bounded to nothing.

Where would she start to make an oath? She'd grab a piece of parchment. She'd probably detail everything she thought of as conditions to put in it. To magically bound a writing to a piece of paper what would she use? A permanent ink spell? Something much stronger. Perpetual writing spells? Did these even exist? Yes. At Grimmaud place! On the family tree! The only way to remove someone from the wall was to burn it with a very complicated burning curse. Which was? No idea.

Fiendfyre would probably do though. Plus if it could destroy a Horcrux maybe it could just vanish the whole shitty thing! There was no way she'd cast friendfyre though. Or was it?

"HERMIONE?" Blaise's shriek made her jump out of her skin.

"Shit WHAT?" She barked.

"You are _not_ casting fiendfyre in here." He warned. She felt her eyes grow wide, and realised the three of them were watching her worriedly.

"Wh … Oh. I thought aloud?" She cringed.

"A tad." Blaise's sarcasm made his mouth twist in a funny face. Hermione almost rolled her eyes:

"Well I won't I'm not stupid but … Fiendfyre destroyed a Horcrux." She tried to justify.

"Well that's not really an option here. Besides, how would you know that the oath wouldn't reappear somewhere else?" Astoria countered.

* * *

Draco watched Granger snatch the oath from the file she'd put it in, and stare at it intently for a few seconds. Then, she exploded:

"Godric's bloody beard! Read this!" She shrieked, her hair all over the place.

Draco hastily grabbed the oath and read:

 _Physically destroying the contract won't remove any of its bounding._

"Fuck." No getting rid of it entirely in one shot then. Nice try. But destroying its magic, layer by layer would certainly work, wouldn't it? The oath didn't answer that thought. Draco thought of it as a confirmation. What would be the first layer? What would _he_ do first to make an oath? Point his wand at the fucking thing and mutter obscure bullshit. How the fuck would he know?

"Can I see it?" Astoria's question snapped him and Granger for that matter, out of their glooming thoughts. He shrugged and she passed the file to Astoria. It didn't take long for the witch to start glaring at the oath as she read it. Granger watched her a few seconds, her own angry scowl matching her girl friend's. Draco felt suddenly very strange to see so much expressed anger on his behalf. The feeling passed as Granger returned to her thoughts and completely shut down. Draco watched her knot a small hand in her mass of hair, scratching her scalp, while the other clenched in a tiny fist. Her big brown eyes blurred and he guessed her mind had started racing again.

What she thought though, he couldn't fancy guessing.

"Granger?" He tried. The previous time Blaise had had to yell. He wouldn't yell though. Instead he pricked his ears to hear her incoherent muttering.

"Not soul binding. Frigging intricate piece of …" He thought he heard. She rubbed her face then and continued, as Blaise scooted closer to listen too: "Magical core … imprint in the object … but moving … hidden conditions? How? … Seems thought interacting … only if you touch it?"

"Try." Draco snapped and she jumped. She didn't look guilty this time and tried right away to check her theory just as he'd told her. Astoria gave her back the oath and she put it down on the carpet, not touching it and stared at it again.

"Nothing. It only answers when you touch it." She eventually said.

"Touch interaction. That's a start." He nodded, already perusing through the humongous pile of books he'd brought back from the Manor. How he'd managed he didn't really know, but he guessed the presence of his father's portrait had made him more than willing to avoid any other trip back.

"A start right." She nodded. "I've never seen anything like that before. Maybe Bill would know …" Now she was more talking to herself. "Sensory charms are not strong enough. It has to be something dark. I can't picture anything capable of that. Although … I know a map that reacts to voices. If you talk to it … What was that charms? I'm certain I researched it …"

"What map?" He asked.

"Harry's map." She answered evasively.

"What kind of map is it?" He asked, his interest suddenly picked.

"It called the marauder's map." She explained, albeit reluctantly. "It's a detailed map of Hogwarts, with all the secret passages, that shows where everyone is in the castle in real time."

"Wh … You had a map like that in Hogwarts?" Draco startled. Of course Potter had to have a secret bloody map.

"Yes." She smiled. Draco was certain he'd seen a glint of mischief in her eyes but it vanished quickly.

"No wonder he never got caught." He growled. "That and the cloak … Sodding Gryffindors." He muttered, remembering fairly well a few times where he'd been severely punished while the goggled git had managed to vanish. She grinned:

"It's true we had an advantage. The map was really useful …" She stopped smiling to frown then and didn't continue. Draco found it strange.

"Where does it come from?" He asked. Surely if they could trace it's maker they could ask about it's magic.

"Harry's father. He's made it with Sirius, Remus and err … Pettigrew." She explained grudgingly, her eyes adverted to her hands.

"Remus Lupin? Sirius … Black?" Draco still asked. Lupin had been his professor. Black, although Potter's well known godfather, had also been his cousin. Wormtail he decided not to think about, he'd been the one finding his strangled body and the image still sent chills down his spine. Potter hadn't told everything in that post-war interview it seemed. Granger's head was probably full of unheard stories. She only nodded this time though, obviously not too keen on answering his questions. Draco understood why when Blaise decided to open his unthoughtful mouth:

"Shame they're all dead though now they can't help …" Granger turned her gaze from them then, swallowing. Blaise seemed to realise suddenly that he'd been rather insensitive. "Shit … I'm sorry I … You knew them right? Personally I mean … Lupin and Black?" She swallowed again before answering and Draco berated himself inwardly for pushing the subject too.

"Yes I … I hadn't thought about them in … a long time." She said in a small voice. "Em. Maybe we should get back to work?" She tried for a smile that she directed at Draco, something close to pleading in her eyes. Draco found that he hated the sight and returned to the subject at hands, not without elbowing Blaise in the ribs:

"Yes. You were talking about sensory spells. Let's see if there's anything about that in there." He said, returning her uneasy smile.

"Yes. It's a start." She seemed relieved and Draco decided not to branch that subject again. Although his curiosity sill tickled him long after they'd dropped the subject.

"Can I have it back?" Astoria asked, pointing at the oath with a finger. "I … I don't know maybe I'll think of something none of you did."

"Yes, because you always have brilliant ideas." Draco sneered, only half-joking. Her charity party still tasted sour in his mouth. She seemed outraged a second before she got the tone.

"At least I have some." She countered. "Besides my brilliant ideas always come to me when I'm angry and that piece of evil … err that thing does just that."

"Help yourself. Find a way to go around it." He challenged.

"Oh but I'll try." She pushed.

"Maybe she'll find out that you can marry a troll instead of a cripple." Blaise smirked. Draco didn't have the time to lift his fist to show his sudden wrath that Granger jumped in:

"Well in this case he'd have to marry you and, pardon me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty certain he'd rather stay under oath." At the shocked face he made, Draco burst in a bout of uncontrollable giggles Granger shared with him. Even Astoria stifled her laughter under a shameful hand. Draco only found his wit back after three blissful minutes. It had been quite a long time since he'd laughed like that. Blaise was glaring, arms crossed over his chest, the scene quite reminiscent of one that had involved the mention of some arse kicking. And bending over.

"You two finished?" He sulked moodily.

"Not quite." Draco smirked, turning to Granger. "Even if I were cuckoo enough to accept a marriage with him Granger, you forgot something essential." She wiped a few laughing tears with a sleeve before taking a fake tone he'd only heard once from her:

"Oh, did I? And what is that pray tell?" Draco tried to contain another wave of laughter, she looked quite like Skeeter like that.

"But that he's already about to marry Gr… Astoria of course." He explained, taking the worst plummy voice he could muster. The accent had a surprising reddening effect on Granger's face and Draco turned to taunt Blaise: "How are things going by the way? Found a ring already?" The lad saw red, and Draco heard Granger try to stifle her laughter at his side. She failed and he had trouble remaining serious himself.

"Oh you obnoxious little …" Blaise started.

"Don't lower yourself Blaise." Astoria cut, apparently unaffected by Draco's jokes, a tiny amused smile on her face. "He's only trying to piss you off."

"Sounds oddly familiar." Draco continued. "Who pissed me off endlessly for … years actually?"

"Alright I get it. Let's get back to work." Blaise sulked and went back to the book he hadn't been reading, Astoria to the oath, and Draco peeked at Granger. They shared a repressed chuckle and went back to reading rather hastily.

* * *

Siding with Draco against the nosey couple had unexpectedly felt natural, if uncontrolled. Hermione thought they both kind of deserved the little banter after all. Both trying to trick her into saying things about Draco. Thinking of which was certainly what they'd done to him too that morning before she arrived.

They shared only thoughts on the oath and sensory charms until it was almost midday after that. Astoria had perused the entire oath and was now wrecking her mind, making the nasty thing enlarge significantly every minute or so under rather unlike-Astoria groans. Hermione and Draco had found a few interesting points on how sensory charms worked but since he'd been targeting layering magic in his research they didn't have the right documentation on hand. They were now trying to figure out another layer of magic before heading to Hogwarts.

"You could change your appearance apparently." Astoria frowned, lifting her gaze to Draco and cutting their quiet conversation.

"How's that helpful?" He asked.

"It's not." She shrugged and turned to Hermione then: "I'm just brainstorming, anything that comes to mind you said." She paused, turning a very small smirk to Draco: "Although it's good to know you could."

"I don't see why." He frowned suspiciously.

"You could use a little tan you're a little pale." She answered patting his cheek with a cocky grin. Was she trying to get back at him?

"True." Blaise jumped in. "When the sun hits him you can see through him." He nodded for Astoria. Yes, definitely getting back at him.

They all had a little laugh and Hermione felt suddenly guilty as Draco's glare went right for her. Right, she'd been on his side until then. She grimaced and tried to return to the matter at hands.

"Why did you think of that?" She asked to Astoria.

"I thought of polyjuice for someone else to take his place."

"It wouldn't work its linked to him, not his appearance."

"Even if he gave that person his wand?" Astoria wondered.

"Well yes. It's linked to his blood, not his wand. It's too dark a magic to try to play this way."

"Blood?" Draco frowned at her confusedly. Hermione found herself equally confused by the question.

"Yes, blood magic links through blood." She articulated slowly. His eyes grew suddenly wide and he looked at her as if she'd sprouted another head.

"Blood magic? But … It's not blood magic."

"Of course it is. It's …"

"It's not. I signed it with my wand." He said his frown so deep his nose was pleating. Hermione felt her own face discompose.

"You … What?"

"It's not blood magic." He repeated, anger spreading a light red tint on his face. "I signed it with my wand." Hermione lost all sort of composure as the words sank in.

"Are you telling me that I've been working on deconstructing blood magic for _shite_?" She yelped, a large lump dropping at the pit of her stomach.

"Well you never mentioned …" He started and she was sure she had!

"I did!" She shrieked almost hysterically. And then, she remembered. Every time she'd been about to, something had cut the conversation. "Oh shit." She cried, helplessly lifting both her hands to her temples. "I didn't."

Draco stayed still for a few seconds and then he seemed to break. He threw around the scrolls he'd been holding in a rage she'd never seen on him before, shrieking himself:

"So all this for _nothing_?"

"Merlin's fucking beard! I can't believe I'd …" Hermione started but cut herself abruptly. Something clicked. "Wait. You signed it with your wand?" She asked. He seemed taken aback by her sudden trepidation, and answered cautiously:

"Yes." He hissed. His wand. No blood. His bloody wand! Genius!

"Godric's beard! It's … Damn your father was smart! This … this type of contract it's … I mean it's dark magic. It always involves blood."

"It fucking doesn't!" He cut, barking, and she lifted a hand to shut him up not retaliating his angry tone:

"He modified it then. It's … Draco I'm certain we can break it."

* * *

Draco? She'd called him Draco, again? Wait, what?

"Wh … how?"

"How much do you care for your wand?" She asked, her eyes pleating.

"A lot."

"Alright then I'll break it for you." She gave, as her gaze blurred, her mind racing again.

"WHAT?

"It's the only way, you'll get a new one." She dismissed as if it weren't important. It was _his wand_. "I'll check before but I'm certain …" She continued. "Look, I thought it was blood magic since your father's dead, and the contract still evolves around you. It had to be. If it's not, but he used your wand … It's only linked to it. My guess is that your father didn't want to make it illegal so you wouldn't be in trouble after the war. It's … well, worked against him. If you break the wand, it'll be as if you died. With no heir."

"Break the oath?" He asked while she caught her breath after monologuing.

"I'm not sure. The company could still return to your mother." She frowned. It couldn't be that easy. It was too simple.

"But I'll be off?"

"Yes." She nodded, the certainty in her eyes he had trouble trusting.

"Are you sure? Seems a bit …"

"I'll check. I'll check." She repeated, looking at something that didn't exist in front of her, her mind visibly racing once more, as she bit her lower lip. She was even tapping her foot on the floor, making her petite form shake. Suddenly, she stood. "Now. I'll check now." She nodded for herself, snatching the oath from Astoria's hands.

"I'm coming." He blurted, standing, and followed her out.

* * *

"Well, that was unexpected." Noted Blaise.

"What? The both of them so engrossed in their conversation they totally ignored us? Or the both of them finally leaving together? Because the fact that she found a way to break that oath isn't." Astoria droned.

"You think they'll jump into each other's arms once they'll be sure she's right?" Blaise wondered, although unconvincingly, couldn't be _that_ easy.

"She is right. But nah, they're more the kind to extol weird complex things over a book and then feel awkward. Swots." Stori snorted, confirming Blaise's suspicions. He wasn't about to let the opportunity pass though:

"Should we try to get them drunk to celebrate?"

"Once she's broken it?"

"Well, yes, not now obviously."

"Oh." She frowned, seemingly disappointed. Good sign.

"What were you thinking?"

"Bringing a barrel of firewhiskey to your place for when they come back." She shrugged, a mischievous start of a smirk on her lips.

"And then we leave them alone once they're ignoring us, you know, the both of them alone, celebrating, too drunk to apparate away, no more floo powder …"

"You're the devil." She grinned, and bit her lip with conspiratorial bliss.

"I love you too." Oh damn.

* * *

"Granger, if it doesn't break the oath what's going to happen?" Draco asked her, as they closed the door to the dark room behind them.

"Your mother would be pointed head of the company." Granger seemed to speculate, walking in an taking in the large shelves that surrounded them.

"Oh." He murmured, and her previous amazement at the room vanished as she turned guilty eyes to him.

"I'm sorry I … Your mother … I didn't think …"

"Don't." He cut. "It's exactly what she wants. She hasn't spoken to me in months. I …" He paused realising what he'd been about to tell her. She hastily gave in a soft voice:

"You don't have to tell me." But he could see the worry in her brow gaze. Why wouldn't he tell her after all? Only Blaise knew, and if confiding in her lifted another weight from his shoulders what bad did it make? She knew a lot more than anyone else already.

"I told my father what I thought of him on his death bed. She hasn't really spoken to me ever since." He said before changing his mind. He didn't expect her sad look:

"I'm sorry." She gave, in all Grangery compassion. She had no idea how things had been since his father's death though.

"Me too. I wish I had earlier."

"You do?" She asked, visibly surprised.

"Yes, he would have disowned me." Which would have saved a lot of trouble. He wouldn't be there with her now though.

"Err … But your mother …" She started, the sad frown returning on her face.

"Some things can't be helped." Draco cut, finding that he didn't like that frown a bit. His mother, as much as he cared for her, had revealed the exact portrait of her first name, and had denied any ties with him upon finding out that she wouldn't get a sickle. Her love for him had been that shallow and he'd let go of it long ago.

Granger only nodded and didn't press the subject. She was way better at taking hints than Blaise was. Her attention returned to the large shelves that reached the ceiling and the first feeling that had gripped Draco when they'd entered the room returned. This time it was stronger than his questions about the oath:

"I can't believe we just broke in Mysteries and the guardian didn't even say a thing …" He muttered.

"Remember when I told you that I used my name sometimes?" She turned a smirk to him. He felt strange.

"You could have done that sooner then." He said, drifting his eyes away from her mouth.

"And I would have researched blood magic for nothing. Now at least, if I fall, it's for something." She said decidedly and Draco realised in what trouble they'd stepped in. She, especially. She was head of Law Enforcement and breaking in a room full of unspeakable documentation.

"Err … Maybe we shouldn't then …"

"We're here. Too late." She cut. "I might even take a look at a few other things while I'm here." Right. Hermione Granger. It was stupid to worry. She'd broken into Gringott's after all.

"Greengrass is so bloody right. What the hell were you doing in Gryffindor?" Draco couldn't help but say though. She only chuckled half-heartedly, perusing the aisles of dangerous books with interest already.

It took all afternoon, and most of the evening.

But she finally found what she'd been looking for.

"Here! Draco! Listen! Magical bounding through one's wand only binds the magical core of said wand." She extolled, shaking a book to him from the other end of the aisle.

"Does … does it mean …" He stuttered.

"You should break it yourself. Wait!" She shrieked as he'd been about to snatch his wand from the table he'd put it on.

"Wh … yes?"

"Do you still have your father's wand?" She asked.

"It's at the manor somewhere yes." He frowned, not following her.

"Of course! That's how! Draco if you break it too, the oath it'll …"

"Vanish."

* * *

Hermione watched him grab his wand slowly. She remembered that wand. She'd seen it that night at the restaurant Astoria had picked out, but now, just now, she remembered Harry using it. She remembered it being the trick that had made the elder wand disloyal to Voldemort. He toyed with it a moment and she said:

"You know that when Harry disarmed you it saved him?"

"I know. It's never worked quite so well since then." He said, thoughtfully looking at the stick of wood.

"I thought you cared a lot for it."

"I do. It's …" He started. "It's going to sound stupid but …" He cut himself, apparently unsure as to tell her or not.

"Yes?" She tried.

"Never mind. I'll just break it I guess." His mouth set in a weird flat line she didn't like. If Hermione had tried to spare his feelings regarding his mother, as she'd – wrongly – suspected it would be as sensitive a subject as his father's was, she saw no reason not to push him then. He'd started to talk after all.

"I thought we'd passed the point where there's still secrets between us." She said. Something twitched in his eyes but it vanished so quickly Hermione didn't know what it was. He grimaced then, but agreed apparently:

"Err … It's a reminder."

"Of what?"

"That I was a shitty death eater." His face grew sombre as his cloudy eyes returned to his wand. Hermione didn't comfort him, or contradict him. Yes he'd been a shitty death-eater. A death-eater. She'd been a mudblood. It was still carved in her arm. She'd moved on from that and it was about time he did too. He deserved to move on.

"Break it." She spat, that anger she felt anytime she thought of what he'd been through returning in an overwhelming blow.

He nodded, his gaze suddenly fixed on hers, and obliged.

Hermione waited for Draco to return from the Manor in her office a little while after. She'd obliviated the guard at Mysteries. Just in case.

She'd broken so many laws that night that she started to feel very guilty. A wave of something very unpleasant was washing through her.

Until Draco came back.

He entered the office, panting, his black robes sweeping after him, a cane in his hands. He looked … upset, angry. Tall.

"What …"

"My father's portrait … he … I told him." And suddenly his face changed, and his anger vanished as he eyes were fixed on hers. She managed to ask in a trembling voice, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under the cloudy gaze:

"And?"

"And if he weren't dead already he'd have died on the spot." He said, and then bit his lip. Was he … was he trying not to laugh?

"Is that a bad thing?" She asked warily.

"Fuck no. It's the best thing ever!" He grinned. Hermione was certain she caught a flash of sadistic pleasure in that smile. She couldn't share the feeling more. She chuckled:

"Let's break that oath then." He nodded, and Hermione opened the oath as he sat facing her.

He took a moment, where he watched the cane thoughtfully, and then he pulled the wand from it. Hermione startled when the cane suddenly burst into flames. He smiled. _Oh._

"Wandless. Impressive." She gave with a small smile of her own.

"Well, I am impressive." He bragged, lifting his chin up with a cocky smirk.

"Break that oath already." She said rolling her eyes, but couldn't repress her smile, she preferred the bragging posh Draco to the angry and desperate one from far. He grinned, and didn't wait to break the wand in two pieces. Both turned their gaze to the oath. It didn't move for an endless second.

And then, it simply turned to dust.

"Disappointing." He scowled. Hermione shrugged:

"I would have expected it to yell or something …"

"Yell?"

"Never mind, I guess it's nothing like a Horcrux after all."

"Err … How were …?" He grimaced.

"Awful." He nodded thoughtfully, taking the hint and not asking more about it. They had an awkward moment of silence. Eventually he said:

"So, that's it?"

"Yes."

"Should we go back to Blaise's?"

"I guess."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you so much for the lovely reviews … hope you'll enjoy next chapter. Sorry for the late updates, there's a lot going on in my life.


	36. Chapter 36

Saturday, June 21st, 2003.

Part two: celebrating encounter.

"So?"

"Did you do it?"

"Where's Draco?"

Hermione was assaulted with, even before taking a step in Blaise's living. She stumbled out of the fireplace, startled to see both the sneaky lovers apparently torn between excitement and anticipation. They were smiling and she hadn't even said a word.

Something rather heavy and unexpected crushed into her before she could cut their incoherent babble though. A hand gripped her elbow just before she fell on the floor.

"Ouch."

"Fuck, sorry Granger."

"S'alright." She mumbled, rubbing her side. Damn he was heavy! "I should have moved …" She started as he frowned, apparently the blow had hurt him too.

"It's nothing." He gave with a clipped smile and Hermione realised he was still holding her steady.

"If you're done with the pleasantries we'd actually like to know if that sodding oath is broken."

This had the benefit to snap them out of the awkward moment and Draco let go of her to turn to Blaise. He pleated his eyes at him and started, his voice oddly small:

"Well …" He made a show of pouting miserably. If Hermione hadn't known him she'd definitely have fallen for it. None of them did though.

"Damn you did it?" Blaise asked Hermione then, a mix of awe and excitement in his grin. It changed significantly from his usual smirks.

"Of course she did it." Draco sneered before she could answer. He shook his head when Blaise started extolling weird things about bad moods and sordid lunches that Hermione didn't understand. Astoria had as wide a grin on her face as Hermione had.

The only one that didn't look entirely happy was Draco.

He should have been jumping in place, clapping his hands, but instead he slumped on the couch as Blaise uncorked a bottle of champagne. He even moodily looked at the full flute Blaise gave him with disgust:

"What is that? Sparkling piss?" He scowled. "Where's the firewhiskey?"

Hermione, although she wondered what had taken him, felt grateful for his request. She didn't like champagne. It always gave her a headache. Firewhiskey too but only because she had a tendency to abuse it.

"Coming your majesty." Blaise answered him with an exaggerated bow, before going back to the kitchen, oddly pinching his lips together. Hermione didn't miss the look he exchanged with Astoria.

Once they were all in the living, they clicked their glasses together, Astoria lifting her glass:

"To Draco." She smiled and Draco answered her grin with a shy smile, a light frown still in place. Maybe he just hadn't realised yet. Right, it could be that. After all, destroying the oath had been rather 'disappointing' as he'd said himself, maybe he needed time for it to sink in.

Years of being trapped didn't erase from one's mind in a couple of minutes Hermione guessed.

They drank, cheered and joked, and drank again, until Blaise only opened his mouth to mock one of them, Draco to snap little sneering comments in return, and Astoria didn't close hers any longer. Hermione found that she enjoyed herself far more than she had in a long time. After a while, and as many drinks, Astoria put some music on, and then she was dancing with Blaise and then Hermione and Draco were weirdly adverting their eyes elsewhere which Blaise saw of course, and didn't miss the opportunity to put his dirty nose where it didn't belong:

"Give the lady a dance mate! She just saved your arse!" Draco's cloudy gaze expended to the size of a plate.

"You don't need to." Hermione hurriedly told him which she regretted instantly at the scowl he hid rather quickly.

* * *

Draco didn't answer. She seemed more embarrassed than repulsed but it still stung. They were both drunk enough to put it all on alcohol later.

Was he actually disappointed? What was wrong with him?

The couple started snogging while dancing and both he and Granger resolutely adverted their gaze to their drinks. After a moment of ill-at-ease silence, Granger broke it:

"So?" He turned to her only to see her fidget awkwardly with the rim of her glass.

"So?" He mimicked, the start of a smirk lifting his mouth as he realised she had no idea what to say, but had just tried to talk over the wet noises at their back.

"Err …" She grimaced, confirming his suspicions. He chuckled and decided against teasing her.

"How's trial?" He asked instead and her visible relief made him chuckle the more.

"They're deliberating over the week-end." She frowned.

"And?"

"And I was confident until they decided that."

"Astoria mentioned it was short."

"Yes."

"Maybe you'll lose your first case." He shrugged, apparently the teasing was in order. She glared but half-heartedly. Her mouth twitched and her left dimple appeared.

"No way." She challenged and finally smiled.

"That's what I thought. Astoria said the defence was shallow."

"It was. They didn't have any tangible argument. I didn't even have to argue, everything they said was easily countered with basic Laws. All the research Stori did was useless."

"You got her a seat?"

"Yes. As a surprise for her help."

The conversation took a working turn then, and drifted to complaining about large meetings, and regulation controls that weren't thorough enough to her taste, neither his. Eventually it took a turn to incompetent assistants and receptionists, again, and then to their current ones that were more than competent. Apparently Tracey Davis had done far more good in Granger's department than in Blaise's company. She'd handled all the paperwork while Granger had been busy with the oath and court.

Astoria had apparently taken things on hands just to let her work on the oath too.

Draco felt immensely grateful. He watched Granger praise both her employees with a fond smile and turned his gaze to Astoria. She winked at him, her arms around Blaise's neck, slowly rounding the space between the living and the kitchen with the low music's rhythm. Blaise had closed his eyes and seemed in utter bliss.

Draco smiled and turned to Granger again, realising he hadn't really listened to what she was saying. All he'd heard was that she'd neglected her work for him, although she hadn't explicitly told him that, and that Tracey and Astoria had let her, better, helped her. For him.

She was talking, or more rambling, a small smile reaching her big brown eyes.

Granger. She'd found a way. Of course, she'd found a way. She'd broken the oath. It was the least surprising thing he'd ever heard, Hermione Granger, succeeding in something. Something she'd done for him. And she seemed as happy about it as he should be. Happy for him. She was happy for _him_.

It was watching her speak animatedly about oaths she'd encountered in the past that it hit him. Like a hard slap right across the face. He was free. He wasn't under oath any more. He could just sell the company. With the money he could buy potion shops. Maybe he could travel. He could buy a town house. He was _free_.

And Granger was still talking, her eyes animated with something wild, a spark, her glass dangerously spinning in her hand, her legs crossed under her, her hair in that messy attempt at a bun she pulled when she was overwhelmed with work.

"You're not listening, are you?" She asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. She chuckled as he blinked:

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was rambling. Sorry I bored you." She smiled.

"You didn't. It's just ... I ..." He started, his breathing suddenly uneven.

"Took you long enough." She smiled. "The oath is broken." She reminded. It took him a moment to stutter:

"It is."

"You could smile. You're supposed to be happy." She was still smiling. Both her dimples were there. He gave her back her smile and hers morphed into a wide grin.

"That's better." She said. She kept grinning, her drunken hands making her glass shake. Draco had trouble tearing his eyes off of that smile. He was certain he'd never seen her smile like that before. It was ... Nice.

"Thank you." He eventually said. And then, he said it again: "Thank you." And again "Thank you."

She put her glass down on the table spilling some of the content, and drew a hand to him as he felt like he was just going to break down.

"It's alright Malfoy. It's good. It's a good thing." She comforted.

"Thank you."

"It's getting old now." She jested softly. "I just did my job, alright? Snap out of it." Her hand reached his forearm then. "Here," she said, grabbing his glass with her other hand, "Drink."

Draco did as told and gulped down a large mouthful of firewhiskey. The burning sensation didn't stop at his throat, it also burned his stomach and he winced. How she did this remaining impassible, he still didn't know.

"Thanks" He said and she chuckled:

"For what now?"

"The drink."

"Oh, you're back with me?"

"I think so."

"Good. Cause it would be a shame if you were broken now that you're free." She smirked, it was as nice as her grin.

"Indeed."

"What are you going to do now?" Her hand was still on his arm.

"Whatever I want."

"Open a potion shop?" She speculated, a curious glint in her eyes. They were really dark.

"Maybe."

"There's a new collection of potion books at Flourish and Blott's."

"I might go take a look then."

"Good." She smiled and then took her glass back and sipped at it, her small hand leaving his arm. "I'm really happy for you. It must have been really hard to be stuck with all this since the war. Like if it'd never stopped …" She frowned sadly. Compassionate she was, and so selfless.

"It was. But it's over now. Thanks to you."

"I'm glad I could help." She smiled and something flashed through his mind.

"I didn't ... Well I kind of forgot but ... How much do I owe you?" Apparently he'd said something wrong.

"What?" Her smile had vanished entirely.

"Well I asked you to ..."

"Do my job." She cut, the warning in her tone he didn't comprehend. "For which I'm paid. By the Ministry."

"It wasn't your job and you worked at night and ..." He tried.

"Are you out of your mind?" She roared.

"Why? I think it's perfectly normal to ..."

"No." She spat and then her voice softened. "I didn't do this to get anything but to help you. You won't pay a sickle. End of the discussion." She concluded sternly. Draco would have known better than to argue if only he hadn't been a tad tipsy.

"Why?"

"Does Blaise ask you for a rent?" She sighed.

"Well no but he's .."

"Don't you dare say your _friend_." She cut sharply.

"Rich. I was going to say rich." He quickly finished, being on the wrong end of her anger didn't seem so much of a good idea.

"Good." She frowned. There was a moment's pause then, during which she assessed his face closely. When she spoke again her voice was oddly small: "Cause we're friends, right?" She seemed to doubt it.

"I think so." He gave and her lips slowly pursued in a grim line. Draco didn't like it a bit.

"Because I helped you." She stated. It didn't sound like a question, more like she believed it. She was avoiding his eyes now and he hated it. It had nothing to do with that.

"No. Because I like you." He countered. She seemed as shocked as he was. And then, she smirked:

"Could you repeat that?"

"Never." He growled and she laughed.

"I like you too Malfoy. I'm glad we found a way." She eventually gave with both dimples.

"Me too. Th ..."

"Don't thank me again please or I might really believe you like me."

"I do." Damn, like one time wasn't enough.

She grinned though. And her dimples seemed to dance and then she shoved a strand of hair off her face and sipped at her drink and they started talking again. Eventually she squinted closer and her legs were still folded under her and she was really small. Draco talked, listened, answered, laughed and stretched his legs in front of him, protesting that he was too tall to ever be able to sit like her and still fit on the sofa without looking ridiculous. She said he was wrong. That it was easy and she patted his thigh:

"Come on try!" He obliged. He folded his legs under him and felt ridiculously stupid. She burst out laughing at him:

"You were right you look so stupid!"

"I told you!" He shrieked drunkenly, stumbling as he stretched his legs out once more. She was still trapped in a bout of giggles and even through his blurry sight, Draco found that her dimples were there, and that she was going to spill her drink for good. So he grabbed it from her hand and their fingers brushed. She stopped laughing and he justified lamely:

"You were going to spill it." She let go of it and he put it down on the table.

"You're so posh Malfoy." She said.

"I'm not."

"Why do you care for Blaise's carpet then?"

"I don't really it's ..."

"You've been watching my drink for hours." She pointed out with a sceptical eyebrow.

"Err ... I don't know. I was raised like that." He scowled.

She bent over to get even closer to him then, her face to his and, with a smirk that gripped his gaze, she said:

"Who's the little swot following all the rules now?" He had nothing to answer to that. And she didn't move away, her smirk inches from his face, some of her hair even closer. He took a strand between two fingers and pulled gently at it before letting it go. It bounced back into a curl. It was soft. He took another one and she withdrew a bit, making it escape his fingers. She was watching him questioningly, her wide brown eyes blurred by alcohol searching his face.

"Your hair is pretty." He said and her eyes started inspecting him fiercely as if she'd found lies on his face. "I'm not mocking you." He murmured and her brows furrowed in surprise. Her mouth opened slightly but she didn't say anything and feeling like she had to believe him, he drew a hand to her hair again. He pushed one rebel strand behind her ear and his fingers lost track of it as the dimple on her right cheek was there. He touched it.

* * *

A second later his lips were on hers and his long-fingered hand cupping her cheek and she froze.

He withdrew sharply, ending the kiss with a shocked face and lifted his hands in apology:

"I'm sorry it's … I didn't mean to …" She put space between them and caught her breath before trying to ease his sudden wide gaze:

"It's nothing."

"I shouldn't have, I'm sorry, I don't know what took me …"

"You were just happy. I get it. I saved your arse after all." She said, trying to convince herself more than him. What the hell had just happened?

"Still I didn't mean …"

"It's nothing. Forget it." She snapped. How did they go from friendly teasing to a kiss? With Draco Malfoy!

"Right." He blurted, visibly very uncomfortable.

"Just don't do that again, is all." She warned, although softly.

"I'll try to remember that." He scowled, his grey eyes on his hands and Hermione felt like the sky had fallen on her head.

"Good." She paused, not knowing what to do. "Now I feel uncomfortable." Right, good, point out the obvious. What a great idea.

He chuckled awkwardly, seemingly trying to ease the mood. It didn't work a bit. Hermione looked around and found how to change the subject:

"Where are they anyway? They just …"

"Planned the whole thing?" He growled, looking around himself and probably noticing only now too that both Blaise and Astoria had vanished.

"Of course. Em … I … Yes I'll just go home now." She stuttered and stood, stumbling on her feet. She was drunk, right. They were drunk. They could blame it on the alcohol, right?

* * *

Draco let her walk to the fireplace, keeping his back to her. He didn't dare look at her in the eyes. He actually found that he feared what he would see there.

After a moment she cleared her throat.

"Em Malfoy?"

"Yes?" He turned to her, unwillingly facing his fear.

"Do you think he emptied the floo powder on purpose too?" She asked, her embarrassment gone from her voice. She was frowning irritatingly.

"What do you think?" He scowled. Of course, the _bastard_.

"I think next time I see him, I might kill him." That fierceness wasn't a good sign for Blaise.

"Good." He snapped. "I'll hold him while you kick."

"Slow death? Good idea." She approved viciously, triggering a little chuckle from him.

"What about Greengrass? She's evil, it was probably her idea." He continued. That woman was as sly as a snake. Err …

"Right, Blaise's not that smart."

He chuckled again at her little smirk. There was pause, during which Draco dared think things had eventually gone back to normal, his horribly stupid mistake forgotten. But then she started fidgeting awkwardly again.

"Err … it's an hour and a half walk to my place …" She started and he decided not to let things be awkward.

"Take the guest room. I'll take the couch." He decided.

"You sure?" She frowned. "I mean …"

"That's what they'd planned anyway. Don't worry about me I'm too drunk to care for comfort." He dismissed.

"I'm drunk too, I don't mind taking the couch." She shrugged, her embarrassment gone and Draco congratulated himself for that.

"No. Guests take the guest room, end of the discussion." He ordered, failing to imitate her stern tone. Her eyes pleated though, and she pushed:

"Posh."

"Maybe. But you're sleeping in there." He concluded.

"Alright." She shrugged, eyeing the couch with a little smirk. He scowled, and pointed at his bedroom door. She chuckled and strode there. He turned his back to her, watching the couch himself. Damn.

"Draco?" She called softly just when he heard the door open. He had to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry, before answering:

"Yes?"

"Good night." She smiled.

"You too." He nodded and the door clicked after her. "Hermione."

* * *

Blaise scowled and closed as quietly as possible the door to his bedroom. He flicked his wand, and silenced it. Astoria sighed dejectedly:

"I told you they're just weird swots."

"It's definitely up to us, isn't it? They can't even kiss. What the fuck was that?" He growled.

"It looked like the way I peck my old auntie Sandi." Astoria grimaced.

"Great. They can't even kiss properly and now they're even mad at us."

"Still means we're not wrong. I guess it's better than nothing."

"Yes I guess it's a start. A very very slow start." He scowled.

"They'll come around. Leave it time, not everyone is like you." She smirked.

"Which means?"

"That Draco isn't really the kind to jump in someone's bed like that, is he?"

"Err … no."

"Well Hermione either." She pointed out.

"Err, sure. We keep pushing though, right?"

"Yes. Although maybe we should be a tad more subtle. We don't want an angry blond again, do we?"

"We definitely don't want an angry Granger either." Blaise shuddered extracting a little laugh from her mouth. "Go take a glass of water or something. Pretend we didn't plan anything."

"Yes, good idea." She nodded, and went for the door again.

Blaise passed his head through the creek and watched her retreating back go slowly to the living. That shirt was a tad too short for her to walk around the flat. Although the view was far from unpleasant. Wait, could he guess the start of her buttocks? Shit what were they saying? Draco was apparently struggling with the buttons of his shirt.

"Oh please you're blinding me." Astoria chuckled and he jumped:

"You're here?"

"And where would I be?" She was good at this. If ever she were to cheat on him, she was right, he'd be fooled.

"I don't know." Draco frowned suspiciously but Stori managed to make his face go smooth and then suddenly uncomfortable with three little words:

"Hermione's gone home?" She asked.

"No, there's no more floo powder." Draco answered warily. For a drunk guy he wasn't that stupid.

"Oh yes. Don't tell me you're taking the couch?"

"Astoria …" He whined. "Not you too, please." Blaise sure hadn't expected that. He was definitely drunk.

"Oh come on!" She reprimanded softly. "You didn't even dance with her." Her tone was … almost disappointed, almost sad. Salazar she was good at this!

"She didn't want to. Now …"

Blaise didn't hear what she murmured to him then, but whatever it was, Blaise had never seen Draco blush so furiously.

"Shut your dirty mouth Greengrass. I'm not a pig like your idiot over there." He snapped angrily, turning his reddening face away from her with a pissed off scowl.

"You wish you were though." She chuckled. "Good night Draco."

The last didn't answer as Stori came back to the room, without a glass of water. Although Blaise doubted Draco would notice. Too drunk and too pissed off now.

"What did you say to him?" He asked as soon as the door was silenced again.

"That he could have at least given her a thank you kiss or something." Using his awkward kiss! Devilish!

"You're the devil." He grinned.

"I love you too." She grinned back, biting her lower lip. Blaise took care of making her scream through the silenced door after that.

* * *

 **A/N:** Couldn't leave you 'hanging' … hope you like it.


	37. Chapter 37

Sunday, June 22nd, 2003.

Hermione woke up with one of those headaches that always followed a very good evening with her friend liquor. She was certain that her hair resembled a gigantic nest that could host a few seagulls. An acrid taste of firewhiskey still lingered on her tongue as she tried to swallow off the dryness of her mouth. It was useless. She stirred, making both her shoulders crack, and opened her eyes.

She was in Blaise's guest room, Draco's bedroom. The previous night she hadn't even bothered to put the light on, and had just sunk into the bed, relished in the good quality of the sheets, and fallen asleep.

Now, as she could smell the lingering scent of his cologne, and something musty that she couldn't place, she realised why she was in the oddly bare room. Blaise and Astoria had planned it whole, which was the least surprising thing that had happened. She wasn't even really mad.

Draco Malfoy had kissed her. That was mind-boggling. He'd kissed her. Her, as in Hermione Granger.

For half a second before jolting away and apologising. Although he'd looked more worried about her reaction than about what he'd done. But then, she'd been so drunk she might as well have imagined that.

He'd still kissed her.

She hadn't minded that much. She'd been caught in the moment and had been about to respond when he'd stopped.

What was wrong with her?

She'd rationalised on the moment, told herself and aloud, that he'd just been happy to be rid of the oath, and of Pansy. He'd been drunk and light headed with the first good news he'd had in years. They'd been alone, drunk, too close and caught up in a moment of weakness. That was all. Shit happened, right?

It wasn't like she really cared.

Why was she still snuggled in his covers then?

She threw them at the foot of the bed, no he did _not_ smell good. She was just lonely. It had been so long since a man had touched her. It had been so long since another man apart from Ron had had any physical interest in her.

Right. It was just that.

He'd said he liked her, though, but he didn't like her like that, right? It was Draco Malfoy after all.

They were friends and it was surprising enough.

She stood, fetched her pants on the floor, put them back on, and didn't dare try to find a mirror to watch herself. She glued her ear to the door, guessing by the light out that it was late morning, and considered the silence safe enough for her to step in the living-room.

Draco was still sleeping, sprawled all over the couch. One of his hands was grazing the floor, the other arm covering his face. He still had his clothes on, although she noticed right away that his shirt was half open. She had to concentrate to look elsewhere. Lean indeed. Em. The cover was half laying on the floor, the other half barely covering one of his legs. He had one feet weirdly resting on the back of the couch, the other on the armrest.

It was a very strange sight. He didn't look so posh any more.

Shaking her head, she stopped staring, and tip-toed to the front door but jumped harder than she thought possible at:

"Good morning!"

* * *

Draco jerked up on the couch only to let himself drop back on it, growling. That headache was monstrous. The world was spinning.

"Slept well Draco?" Astoria? Oh. "Tea Hermione?"

Hermione? Shit.

"Err … Do you have any pepper up?" He heard her voice answer. Astoria chuckled and Draco heard her pass the couch, he tried to open his eyes and groaned.

"Yes I do. Draco?"

"A full dose." He grumbled. That chuckle wasn't Astoria's. Draco's eyes snapped open, painfully. Granger was right there, her hair … Sweet Salazar was it even possible?

"What?" She scolded. He should probably try to control his face but he wasn't a morning person, neither a hungover one and she'd just laughed at him.

"Your hair …" He started and cut himself abruptly, suddenly remembered telling her it was pretty. He felt his face change colour. _What the hell?_

She snorted though, offended apparently, and didn't seem to notice his sudden urge to crawl in a hole to hide.

"You should look at yours." She smirked. His hands instantly patted his head and he scowled. She chuckled again. He had to rub his face with both hands.

"Are you brewing it Greengrass?" He snapped angrily.

"Watch you tone with my girl you drunken twat. Hermione. Slept tight?" Blaise's smirk was not welcome this early in … err.

Granger only grimaced, suddenly avoiding Draco's eyes. Why though, he couldn't fathom.

"Didn't hear too much noise?" Blaise continued, wiggling his eyebrows stupidly.

"I heard laughter." Hermione cut with a little smirk. "Was that you Stori? Is it _that_ small?" Draco had an unexpected little laugh and received a glare.

"Nice try for humour. For your information, it is far from small." Blaise bragged.

"Too much information." Granger grimaced and childishly faked a gag. Draco had another little laugh. He suspected he was still drunk. She turned to Astoria then: "I think I'll skip the tea Stori."

"Why?" The concerned witch, who was already pouring some pepper up in steaming mugs, asked. "No you don't have to work." She warned as Granger opened her mouth.

"Well …"

"The oath is broken, the trial is over, the paperwork handled. Take the bloody tea already." Astoria snapped.

"Err …"

"Don't make me drag you out too. We've got all … afternoon. You've got nothing to do at home but worry about the deliberations and …"

"Alright! Alright! I'll take the tea!" Draco would never have pictured Granger to give up that easily. She had to really feel bad. Probably as bad as he did. Maybe she was out of pepper up.

"Come on Draco come get the pepper up!" Astoria called.

"I'm not your bloody dog Greengr … As-To-Ri-A." He corrected at her nasty glare.

"DR-A-CO." She mimicked childishly. It seemed as though they were all still …

"How much alcohol did you have last night?" Granger voiced his thoughts.

"Hermione when your hair's like that, you shouldn't speak." Astoria teased slyly.

Draco saw Granger take a deep breath, snatch her wand from … he didn't see, too fast, and point it at her bag. A wordless accio later and a hair band and she looked … Like she'd been working for three months straight. Draco had to hide a smile.

"Better?" She asked.

"I wouldn't go that far …"

"Stori I really, really like you, but sometimes you piss me off." She scowled, although as he stood to join them, Draco saw them exchange smiles.

Astoria still pulled her tongue at her and Blaise, of course, commented. Draco decided to concentrate on his cup of tea.

* * *

When she got home, quickly after taking her peppered up tea just in case Astoria really decided to take her out, or so she told herself, Hermione had an owl. Minerva had written, apparently quite disappointed she hadn't come. Or more hadn't warned her she wouldn't.

Draco had kissed her.

She'd have to apologise. By letter though, if she were honest she felt somehow relieved she hadn't had to justify her sudden absence to Minerva. She'd dreaded to have to answer the inevitable questions about her complete disappearance from anything Order related, or the questions the head-mistress would have probably asked about her acquaintances.

Minerva had mentioned her surprise in her response anyway. How was it that she asked to come with Draco, Astoria and Blaise?  
The question had probably concerned Draco more than the others though.

Draco had kissed her.

She hadn't pushed him away.

He'd stopped though and apologised.

What had gotten him anyway? Telling her that her hair was pretty. With those sodding cloudy grey eyes fixed on her. Hypnotising frigging …

Alright. _Pretty prat._ Astoria be damned. Couldn't she just go back to being blinded by their history?

His shirt had been open that morning. He hadn't closed it the _whole_ time she'd been sipping at her tea, the sodding prat! He'd kissed her!

That idiot had kissed her!

Hermione took a deep breath. Stop. She'd had the internal debate that morning already. Right.

They'd been drunk. Seeing the strength of his hungover he hadn't been himself at all. Right.

Plus, he'd been happy for the first time in years probably.

She'd saved his arse. Twice. She'd freed him from that horrific bullshit paper. He'd kissed her because of that. And then realised why he'd done it and stopped.

She hadn't kissed him back anyway. A big fat snort escaped her lips. Who was she kidding … that morning face he had. Shirt still open, hair in a mess falling on his forehead. She'd practically run away from Blaise's, of course she'd have kissed him back!

He was handsome BUT she was lonely and it was just that. He could be as pretty as he liked, looks had never been enough anyway.

And he could be as witty and clever as he liked too she didn't give a damn. Right.

They were friends, weren't they? Were they still?

He hadn't seemed especially awkward that morning but then the huge hangover and how he always managed to guard his face could have fooled her.

Maybe he felt awkward now and wouldn't talk to her anymore.

Maybe now that she'd helped him, he'd forget he ever said he liked her. _Her._ The way he'd said it that first night. With disgust.

But then he'd apologised, helped her, hadn't wanted her help until being left no other choice. He had to care.

What if he didn't care though?

Maybe she should tell him that she wasn't mad at him or anything.

How desperate would she sound?

But she didn't want things to be awkward between them when they saw each other the next time. Well, if there was a next time now. Shit she hoped there'd be a next time! Wow, where had that come from?

Well, they were friends! Friends saw each other. And a sodding little drunken kiss wouldn't change that. It had been nothing and it didn't change anything. End of the discussion.

Was she seriously telling herself that? She was mad.

But she wouldn't tell him anything and nothing would change, she concluded, with herself, as the mad person she was.

* * *

Draco went back to his room as soon as Granger had left, the pepper up slowly dissipating his headache. Bearing with Astoria and Blaise with such a painful blow certainly wasn't a good idea.

Especially since the first thing Blaise had asked when Granger had gone was why he hadn't kissed her goodbye. Blaise had been answered by Draco's banging door.

They'd been eavesdropping the two atrocious perverts!

And he hadn't kissed her goodbye because he didn't want to kiss her!

He'd kissed her last night.

FUCK he'd kissed her.

Granger. Hermione fucking Granger.

Draco sat at his desk, took his face in his hands and groaned, loudly. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What had happened to lead to that?

Well, she'd come over to help first. Then … They'd broken into the Ministry. Which was a perfectly normal way to spend the day.

What had he expected anyway? Gryffindor eh? Golden trio and all. Reckless.

Anyway.

Then she'd found the way to break the oath, hadn't she? She'd saved his arse.

Damn, she'd saved his arse. He was fucking free.

He was!

And then they'd been drinking.

He'd kissed her.

Shit, he'd kissed Granger.

It was all he could think about now.

He'd kissed Granger. Hermione.

He'd been drunk.

She'd saved his arse.

She hadn't pushed him away.

She'd saved his arse.

She'd been drunk.

She'd told him not to do it again. That stung. But he didn't want to do it again!

It was too much information, the headache was coming back.

She'd been wearing a black tent again. He'd still kissed her.

He'd said he liked her. Sweet Salazar he'd said that!

He'd said he thought they were friends. That wasn't so bad.

He'd told her her hair was pretty. That was _really_ bad.

What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn't even blame it on the alcohol! Her sodding hair _was_ pretty.

But why in hell would he say it?

She was pretty.

And? Astoria was pretty too and he didn't give a damn.

Daphne was pretty for instance. It was not like he cared. Or had kissed her out of nowhere.

Hermione fucking Granger.

He looked at the picture facing him on the desk. That damned dress! Couldn't he just go back to believe she was just a brain?

Wait. When had he opened the desk? He was loosing his shit apparently.

Damn. What was wrong with him?

Hermione Granger. That was what was wrong with him.

Kind, friendly, selfless, compassionate, brilliant.

He liked her. Like being the key word. As _friends_. Why kiss her then you bloody sodding idiot?

Was it all because she'd found the way to break the oath as she'd suggested? Maybe. Certainly. Although it was more likely to be because she'd been kind. Did he even remember the last time someone had been kind to him?

So what? He kissed the first kind girl he found? And it had to be Hermione Granger! The girl he'd insulted and mocked for years, the forgiving war heroine, the pretty sodding brilliant witch.

Couldn't it be … whoever, Astoria? Err … too sneaky. Blaise's anyway. Although surely only because he hadn't tried.

Daphne? Err … Sherry? He almost gagged. With the stomachache he had, images of hairy moles weren't a good idea.

Hermione Granger. Bushy hair, bullied, muggle-born, resented for a decade, from the other side of the war, tortured under his nose, divorced which implied married at some point to _the weasel_ , (ex-)best friends with _Potter_ , Ministry official, the list was so long of reasons why not that he didn't bother continuing.

Although, all those, weren't good reasons. Her hair was pretty, her big brown eyes too, her birth had never really mattered and it certainly didn't now, she'd been on the right side of the war, she'd divorced the dimwit, Potter was the only reason he was still alive today, her job had helped him recast his company and gain associates that weren't scum, the list was longer.

She was kind, pretty, brilliant, funny, she smiled at him, she'd forgiven him, thought he was a good man, she was his _friend_.

He wouldn't ruin that. Right. He'd probably ruined that. Shit.

He didn't really deserve her friendship now did he? He'd had it though. And he certainly wouldn't try anything that could have her drift away from him now.

Wait, since when did he care? He didn't.

But still, it bothered him, was she mad he'd kissed her?

She'd looked awkward, that was certain, but she hadn't looked mad. She'd been drunk though.

And that morning Astoria and Blaise had been there, maybe she'd been playing nice and would avoid him now? Surely, he hadn't been able to catch her gaze at all when they'd taken tea and then she'd fled, rather precipitately.

He had to tell her something.

He had to.

Why though?

Because he fucking cared. Nobody heard his thoughts. He could confess that to himself. He cared about her and the very thought of her deciding he wasn't worth her time any more made his stomach lurch. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

Whatever. He had to say something.

Apologise again?

It would probably only make things weirder. It could hurt her feelings too.

 _Hey Granger don't mind me kissing you, I was so drunk I found you pretty_.

Way to go.

A thank you note?

Way to just say without saying it, that he was grateful and her friend. Yes, better than nothing anyway.

 _Granger_ , no _Hermione_ , Err. Shit.

 _Hermione,_

 _Thank you for saving my bloody arse._

LAME.

A gift?

What bloody gift did you give someone who'd just saved your arse from a life trapped in a hell hole?

Err …

What would he write on the card anyway?

 _It isn't much but since you won't accept my money_ … What the fuck?

Wait.

Was he really wrecking his brain over Hermione Granger? He, Draco Malfoy? Over Granger's possible will not to see him again?

No, no, no, this _wouldn't_ do. What in Salazar's name was wrong with him? HE DIDN'T CARE!

Draco angrily tossed the bloody Witch Weekly copy to the other end of the room, stood, roughly pushed his chair back against the desk, stomped his foot like a stupid kid throwing tamper tantrums, and decided he didn't bloody give a shit. He shouldn't, wouldn't and that was the end of the fucking story.

He was tired and hungover. Right.

Taking a step to the bed he let himself fall in it, grabbed the wrinkled covers oddly spread at the foot of the bed and covered his face. He didn't give a shit. Let her be mad. Who gave a damn?

What was that smell?

Salazar's fucking beard!

He threw the covers away. Jolted up like a madman, accioed the Witch Weekly copy and forcefully grunted incoherent shite for at least a half hour before taking what had been the obvious decision.

* * *

Hermione jumped out of her skin at the loud knock. Something, someone was at her door. The last person coming here had been … Ginny. It couldn't be Ginny though. She had a flash of Nott's livid glare then and bolted out of the couch, unwillingly letting drop the book she'd been _trying_ to read for pleasure. With trembling hands she opened her door warily.

A wizard, obviously, the hat, was carrying flowers.

"Hermione Granger?" He asked with a polite smile. She unclenched her hand around her wand.

"Yes?"

"Those are for you." He said, and handed her the large bouquet.

"Oh. Thank you." He nodded and popped away. Hermione closed the door and frowned, lowering her eyes to the unexpected gift. Had she ever received flowers? Not that she reckoned. And it wasn't just any flowers.

It was white lilies. There was a note. She recognised the neat handwriting before reading it.

 _Thank you,_

 _for everything._

 _Draco._

'Draco.'

Hermione carefully put the bouquet in her reparoed vase, which had been broken by his owl, and was left with the short note. She went to her bedroom, and, not really knowing why, opened her desk, retrieved her beaded bag and opened it.

Inside were her mum's favourite scarf, the very few letters from her parents, three medical records, an emergency travel bag containing all she'd need for a week in hiding (yes she was neurotic), the tent they'd slept in during seventh year, a baby jumper, the necklace Ron had given her on their first date, a precious edition of Pride and Prejudice which bookmark was a picture of her with Harry and Ron at the Quidditch world cup before fourth year, the small bracelet her father had given her as a present for attending Hogwarts, the tales of Beedle the bard from Dumbledore which bookmark was also a picture of her with Harry and Ron (in Hagrid's hut, when Hogwarts had just been rebuilt), a first aid kit she'd put together for the war, the congratulation note Mrs Zabini had sent her after the regulations had been passed, and now, Draco's note.

She closed the bag again, put it back in the drawer, and decided not to think about that decision.

* * *

 **A/N:** Just to let you know that I published the first chapter of another Dramione called Gradually. Nothing like this one. Hope you liked the chapter, love your reviews. Lucie.


	38. Chapter 38

Monday, June 23rd, 2003.

Hermione walked out of Mysteries overwhelmed with a strong impulse to cheer that was rather hard to repress, coupled with a strange uneasiness at seeing the guard she'd obliviated just two days before. He didn't react at her sight, just like he hadn't when she'd been with Draco. Merlin be gracious her spell would hold.

She snorted, if she'd been able to erase the life out of her parents, surely a few minutes of the guard's mind wouldn't be an issue. Still, it felt wrong.

She took the lift, taking steadying breaths, she hadn't remembered how the aftermath of doing something this bad felt. They weren't at war any more … last time she'd broken here, or in Gringott's for instance, she'd had no time for guilt.

Although she knew she'd done the right thing, and didn't regret it a second. Draco was free and it was all that mattered.

Right. Guilt was for guilty people and she'd done the right thing.

The lift landed and its ding had the benefit to cut her thoughts.

Hermione had just the time to see Tracey roll her eyes dramatically before being assaulted by a full curtain of raven hair.

"SO?"

"We won."

"I knew it! Let's celebrate!" She cheered, as Tracey's eyes grew wide and the goggled witch escaped her desk to go lock herself in the archives.

"Again?" Hermione asked. Astoria frowned, her face drifting from thrilled to confused.

"Well, yes. You won."

Hermione decided not to argue. Astoria was the first person she'd met with whom she could share her sudden urge to cheer. Plus, she was likely to spend a good evening so she wasn't about to complain.

"I'll tell Blaise! Would you tell Draco? Blaise's spending the week at mine." Astoria continued.

"Oh, okay."

"Thanks!" She smiled and strode off to Hermione's office, where they'd been reviewing an almost inexistent load of paperwork before Hermione had been called to court.

Hermione was left feeling slightly strange, she couldn't tell exactly what had just happened, but she suddenly felt like she'd been tricked again.

* * *

Draco had spent his day taking care of all the paperwork necessary to put the company to sale, all the while adjusting to a new wand that, unexpectedly, responded to his everyday moves quite right. He would have to try more complicated magic soon. He still had managed to draft the sale notice, and everything would be ready for Wednesday. He hadn't taken the books back to the Manor, hadn't heard from his mother - to whom he'd sent said draft for a reason he didn't want to branch, even with himself - and had hurried back to Blaise's as soon as his secretary had left the office.

When he entered the flat, it was still lacking sleep from Saturday night, and rather exhausted from the day too. He wasn't exactly in a good mood then, but … it was significantly different than before. He didn't need a drink because there wouldn't be any paperwork that night and that itself managed to shrink down what could be called bad mood. He was in a sort of in between. Sometimes smiling to himself, sometimes petulant.

Maybe he'd always been a lunatic after all.

Although, if he were entirely honest, there was a little nagging feeling that had persisted all day. Which he had to admit was certainly the reason why he wasn't completely satisfied with his day. Hermione hadn't answered his note, which he'd realised after sending didn't really require an answer, and he still had no idea if she was pissed at him or not.

He was free, alright, but he was also the greatest git in the entire country.

Maybe Blaise would know. Surely if she was angry, she'd told Astoria, who would tell Blaise. But it would have to wait until the next day for him to sleep home.

Draco sighed, kicked his shoes off, tossed the papers he was holding on the coffee table and slouched on the sofa, trying to muster the satisfaction he ought to be feeling at that moment. He had an unexpected flash of white raw fear when something tapped at the window. A tawny owl.

 _Nott?_ What did that bastard want?

He went for it slowly, his limbs suddenly weak. The window open, the owl perched on his shoulder, extending a paw to him. Draco retrieved the letter warily, and the bird beaked his ear before taking off.

Salazar's blessing it was not from Nott.

 _Draco,_

 _I write to tell you that you were right, we won in court (please burn this note after reading it) and that Stori decided that we would celebrate this Saturday night. Let me know if you'll be around and I'll send you the address once she's picked the restaurant._

 _Hermione._

 _P.S:_ _Thank you for the flowers, they're beautiful._

'Hermione.'

Draco found himself smiling at the piece of parchment like a moron and decidedly put his usual blank mask back on. It kept slipping off.

She'd said they were friends after all, hadn't she? When was Hermione not true to her words anyway?

 _I'll break that oath._ Never seemed to be the right answer. When she said something, she meant it.

So, that little incident, _yes_ it had been an incident, was forgotten. Good. Now he could go back to try to ignore the little pang he'd felt when he'd thought that she'd decided to ignore him. Or the fact that he'd kept the copy of Witch Weekly. Or that she was … Stop. God damned mind.

Why she'd written instead of letting Blaise tell him as usual though, he had no idea, and decided that he wouldn't listen to the tiny voice that told him she'd just wanted to write.

She hadn't.

End of the story.

And _no_ , he wasn't smiling. He just needed a distraction, was all.

* * *

Tuesday, June 24th, 2003.

Astoria looked … weird that morning. Her hair was perfect - which was odd considering Blaise had come pick her up the previous evening - her face equally so and her robes were as neat as usual, but there was something off. Hermione couldn't quite pin-point what, but when lunch came after a long morning of wondering, she couldn't hold her curiosity any longer:

"What's wrong?" She asked. Astoria sighed, and leaned a tad over her salad, apparently she'd been debating with something and had only needed the little push:

"My father wants to have lunch with me on Thursday."

"Oh. And?"

"And I don't know if I should go with the way he's treated both Draco and Blaise I …"

"He's your father Stori, maybe he's trying to make peace?" Hermione tried, not knowing if she was trying to convince Astoria or herself.

"Oh that he is." Astoria dismissed though, startling her. "It's just that he's asked for the lunch a tad quicker than usual …" Hermione gave her a questioning gaze, not really seeing what she meant. Astoria sighed again: "Either he wants to talk about a possible engagement, either he's going to yell."

"Oh. Well … which would you prefer?" Hermione grimaced, she didn't have any advice for such a situation. She was no expect in the parent department.

"I have no idea." She sighed. "I'm just tired. We've spent the last five years arguing. It might take longer than just a lunch break."

"Take the day then." Hermione shrugged.

"Wh …"

"We have nothing to do that Tracey and I can't handle. There's not trial to prepare, only boring cases of controls."

"Yes, but …"

"Take the bloody day already." Hermione cut, not able to hold back the little ugly smirk that gripped her mouth. Here, right back at her. Astoria chuckled.

"Alright, I'll take the day." She sighed with false drama.

It was the sole interesting thing that happened, or more was discussed that day. The lack of work and Tracey's ability to vanish paperwork in a matter of seconds - which by the way made Hermione regret ever thanking Merlin for Tracey Davis - only aggravated their boredom. Yes, boredom. Hermione was BORED.

Being free from oath breaking issues and hurried trial preparations, she was left a tad purposeless. She still had work of course, but nothing more than she could handle in barely an hour or two, being used to rush into things and all.

This wouldn't do. Maybe she could review the archives in search of any missed issue? Surely there were still things Judith had hidden that Tracey and herself had missed while ordering through that mess. Right, she'd just do that.

Hermione stood, started out of her office, and went to the archives, decided to review everything. Maybe she'd find inspiration. There certainly were many fields that required a good set of new Laws or regulations. She just had to find them.

She stopped before the door though, as something flashed. A hushing Draco Malfoy gesturing for her to listen to her former employees came to mind and she smiled.

She shook the thought away quickly but couldn't get rid of the little smile tugging at her lips as she went to work.

* * *

It had seemed as though trying to distract himself by working hadn't been the wisest idea in such circumstances. Draco had spent the previous evening working, thus resulting in the selling notice being ready for lunch, a day in advance. Not willing to spend one more minute than necessary in the building he was almost free from, he'd found himself having nowhere to go, and had gone back to Blaise's.

The lad was missing. Annoying that he'd chosen that specific day to show his face at what he pretended to be work.

Only ten minutes of pacing around the flat, trying to ignore the scattered books still making Blaise's living look like a library, were enough to drive him mad.

Draco was bored. Yes, bored out of his mind and it was his first day without any work. Wait, no, his first afternoon.

Growling in frustration he went to his room, and started ordering his already perfectly ordered desk. Once done, he opened it absent-mindedly, and had to clap it close.

Why was he even keeping it eh?

He stood and swept his wand to make his bed. Nothing moved of course, he'd done it before going that morning. Maybe there'd been a tiny speck of dust that had vanished though.

Draco wondered how all those people staying at home did to remain sane. How did Blaise do? What the hell did he do all day?

Sighing, he went back to the living in order to try something he'd never tried before: relax. He made himself a cup of coffee, and let himself fall on the sofa.

He accioed a book.

The wrong book obviously since the precarious pile that had been atop stumbled and scattered all over the place.

Damn it.

What was that charm Hermione had used in her office? Err … voiceless sly witch.

He really ought to ask her.

Thinking of it, he hadn't answered the previous night, too busy smiling like a moron, which was why he'd worked his mind off, and had forgotten. Shrugging, he went back in his room, reopened the desk, pointedly ignored the picture that smiled at him in there, and retrieved her letter, along with a new piece of parchment.

* * *

Hermione went back home that evening, in a rather sullen mood. She'd found strictly nothing to work on in the part of the archives she'd reviewed, Astoria had stolen any paperwork Tracey had inconveniently missed - which had resumed to two letters and a Ministry notice about forgotten lunches in meeting rooms - and no trial had been announced. Aside from burying herself in another grand scale project such as the set of regulations she'd worked on with Mrs Zabini, Hermione saw nothing she could do to help her ordeal.

Problem was, not the ideas, they were pouring, but that if she started on any of those, she would have to postpone it as soon as a trial came up, or an important case, as her position obligated her to attend those first.

Wise had been the Wizengamot after all. Maybe proposing her the promotion had been a way to tame her earth-moving projects.

Maybe.

A impatient clack came from the kitchen, and Hermione found Draco's pretentious owl at her window. She had a little huff when the bird pompously lifted his paw for her to grab the letter. He flew away batting his wings as if annoyed.

Was she seriously judging an owl? She frowned, but then Tiny came to rest on her lap as she opened the letter, and well, the difference was striking.

Merlin she needed a drink. Being bored seemed to make her analyse every little thing. She read the letter, petting Tiny with her left hand.

 _Hermione,_

 _Congratulations, I'll be there Saturday to celebrate. I will, of course, certainly not burn that note. Hermione Granger, admitting Draco Malfoy is right. Are you mad? I think I'll have it framed._

 _Although if you were to send me how to cast your organising charms, I might burn it._

 _Draco._

 _P.S: My pleasure, glad you liked them._

Hermione chuckled, at least three times. It seemed as though the little incident was forgotten. Great.

The little banter seemed reminiscent of what they'd exchanged a little while before she'd known about the oath. Although it was much less scathing. Hermione wondered if she'd kept his other letters. She probably had gotten rid of them.

She opened her desk, just to check and well … they were just there among other papers, next to her beaded bag.

Frowning, she started perusing them.

' _I won't take the risk to kill him and have you sent to Azkaban though, you seem rather useful to the community.'_

Right, less scathing.

She didn't even realise, but after staring a few minutes more than appropriate at the neatly looped handwriting, she put the old letters back in her desk, with the last one.


	39. Chapter 39

Thursday, June 26th, 2003.

Encounters from the past.

Draco apparated to the company building that day, ready for the meeting that was scheduled an hour from then.

A potential buyer.

Negotiations.

Freedom.

This was going to be a very good but boring day.

He walked in, took the lift, nodded to his secretary, and walked to his office.

He hadn't expected to find his mother waiting for him on the visitor's chair.

"Mother?" He startled. Her sleek blond hair reached her waist now. It was all Draco could see until she turned around slowly, poised as ever. Draco knew better.

"Son." She gave, although the tone she employed indicated all but a motherly greeting. Her face gave nothing away but polite beauty, as usual. She was as stunning as she'd been months ago. She didn't even seem to age.

"What's the purpose of your visit?" He asked, balancing his words as to sound mildly interested, just as she'd taught him. Surely she hadn't come after months of silence to take news of her 'son' but it had been so long that Draco couldn't help but try. She went straight to the point though:

"Your father's portrait has lost his ability to travel from the Manor's portraits to this one." That felt like she'd poured a tall glass of iced water down the back of his shirt.

Draco frowned at the frame next to the window. Now that he thought of it, it was indeed strange that his father's shadow hadn't paid him a visit. Especially since the last time they'd talked he'd thrown in his face that he was going to break the oath, and his precious caned wand. Maybe by doing so he had altered some of the magic that permitted the portrait to move much more than any other. He had only two portraits after all, one in his office, one in the master bedroom.

"Here to deliver your message yourself then?"

"Yes." She confirmed curtly.

Draco sighed and went to sit at his desk. Facing his mother wasn't something he'd thought he'd be doing anytime soon. It was rather difficult to maintain a blank face especially since she evidently had no intention to make peace. She seemed utterly unbothered. She wasn't.

"I'm listening." He said under her pointed stare. He could see the hint of determination that was imperceptible to any other eye. He waited as she took the polite amount of time to answer:

"I want you to yield me the company." She stated. Just like that.

"Yield?" He wondered.

"Yes. You owe me as much." She nodded, her pale blue eyes glinting with something Draco knew by heart: warning. He wasn't supposed to argue. He did anyway:

"Owe you? How so?" He asked, as calmly as possible. He had to clench a fist under the desk. It was not proper to hide your hands when having a conversation. He was supposed to keep them either flat on the desk, either joined in pretend interest. He didn't give a damn. Her eyes shifted to his lowered arm before she answered, looking at him straight in the eyes:

"You ruined your father's last day on earth." She stated, bitterness quite evident in her tone. "Wasted his heritage away by changing even this seat. You broke his wand. Without my permission." The last words shattered the usual polite half-smile on her face. Nothing was new though and Draco was tired of justifying his acts. He'd done what he had to do.

"I need the money." He countered, thinking it wiser to ignore what she'd just said.

"You should have thought of that when you decided to spit on your name." Like those kind of orders worked on him still. He decided against retaliating the threat.

"Make an offer." He kept his ground.

"I'm sure I heard you wrong." Her voice trembled dangerously low then, but he didn't care. Not any more. If she wanted war instead of ignorance, if she'd decided peace wouldn't ever be an option, then, she'd get exactly that.

"No, you didn't. Make an offer mother. If it weren't for me being trapped here, the company would have been closed by Law. You will make an offer and the company will go to the highest bidder."

"How dare you …" She started, finally loosing her nerves.

"This is quite enough mother." He cut. "You come here after denying my mere existence since father died, claiming something that doesn't belong to you. Something I'm sure you knew I would be trapped with like a vulgar slave. The only person I owe anything to is Hermione Granger and she isn't asking for a thing."

"Hermione Granger? Potter's …"

"Choose your words wisely mother. If it weren't for her I would be rotting here for ever."

"You wouldn't have if you'd followed your father's instructions and married a suitable woman!" She gave, her voice threatening to become high.

"And then what?" He hissed, loosing all his manners with those three little words. Next, he barked: "Willed this horrid place to an innocent child?!"

"Horrid? Horrid?" Now she'd lost it. "How dare you sully your father's toil! He worked his entire life to provide for you!" She practically shrieked.

"Do you even know what was going on in this building mother? Or were you so blinded that you never saw?"

"How dare you speak to me this way!" She drawled.

"Or maybe you agreed. Did you?"

"With what exactly?"

"You don't know. You have no idea." He startled. "Let me show you something mother." Draco stood, bolted up and rounded the desk to a shelf next to the door. He unwarded the section and retrieved the first record he'd ever read after taking the lead. This should do. There were fifteen pages about how his father had earned all he'd possessed. About his supposed 'toil'. About his scamming of muggle companies, his obliviating to vanish evidences, about his selling of dark artifacts, his blackmailing of Ministry officials, the list was long. The report, supposed to be destroyed.

"Here. Read this." He spat, tossing the file in front of her, and sat back down. His mother, although very angry, revealed more curious than so. She started reading. It was the first time in his life that Draco saw anything more than contempt or poised joy on her face. He had never seen fear on her features, even when Voldemort had lived under their roof, she'd been a wall, her emotions always concealed, protecting herself from the others.

Even from him.

At that moment, her gaze grew wide as he was certain she recognised the handwriting. Her hands started trembling, but she read the whole document.

Without pause.

Then, she slowly put it on the desk. It took her several minutes of silence to regain her composure.

When he face had smoothed and her emotions were concealed once again, she asked:

"Would you care to send me the most recent one?"

Draco accioed it. He handed it to her.

She read it too.

He didn't dare hope that she'd come to her senses but the little spark was there nonetheless.

It was crushed as soon as she put the last report down.

She stood and walked away without a word.

"Mother …"

She pretended not to hear him.

A minute after, his secretary was at his door, biding him to come to the meeting room. The potential buyers, yes plural apparently, had arrived.

* * *

Hermione sent Tiny with her answer to Draco, first thing that morning. Then, she decided to walk to the Ministry. The whether was already hot this early in the morning, and it was hoping that she'd arrived at her desk to a new trial that she let her leather shoes clack on the pavement.

Except the lack of actual work, everything was fine.

The sun was burning hot and its reflects on the windows blinded her just so that she had to look at her shoes while she walked. It felt good.

For the first time in months, probably years, nothing was bothering her.

It wasn't normal.

It felt very odd.

Her sodding mind started playing out what could possibly go wrong two turns away from the Ministry. Never, ever, once in her life had she felt at peace like that.

Except for the lack of work but it would come around. It always did.

She reached the visitor's entrance, dialled the code in the red telephone booth, went down to the atrium, encountered no one susceptible to annoy her, arrived at her department to an already busy Tracey, took the pile of mail the goggled witch handed her with a smile and a 'good morning' and strode to her office.

Oh, Nott's company control was approaching. She smiled, that should be interesting. She viciously looked forward to it.

Yes, something bad was going to happen.

Even with Astoria gone for the day though, she found herself devoid of any real work to do by one o'clock. She hurried herself in the archives until three. Something had tickled her eyes about potion ingredients importation. Something she'd discussed already with Stori for Ernie McMillan. She went back to her office to take notes. She was deeply engrossed in it when a loud crashing sound echoed and she found herself wand drawn, facing the green gaze of a very disgruntled Harry Potter in her small fireplace. She remained rooted to the spot.

"Em. Hermione?"

"What?" She asked warily.

"Could we … could we have a word? If you're not busy that is." He seemed utterly uncomfortable.

"I am." She gave curtly.

"I know there's no trials coming." He countered.

"What do you want?" She sighed.

"Could I tell you in person? This is rather uncomfortable." He grimaced.

"Depends. Are you coming to insult me?" She taunted albeit warily.

"No."

She nodded. Only. He disappeared from the earth to reappear entirely.

She sat behind her desk while he dusted his robes and waited for him to sit facing her, which he didn't.

"Could we go somewhere else? I mean …" He started.

"No. What do you want?"

"I … I owe you apologies." Hermione felt her eyebrow shoot up to her hairline as Harry's green orbs wrinkled in wariness.

"Do you?"

He started fidgeting with his glasses, taking them off, smudging them with the hem of his robes, putting them back on. He was _not_ good at this, Hermione was perfectly conscious of that, but with the way he'd treated her, he deserved to be uncomfortable.

"Yes. I'm sorry. I regret how I treated you before … I think I don't know half of what happened between you and Ron and I got blind-sided … I shouldn't have picked a side I really regret it …" He blurted hurriedly, looking about to melt into the ground. Hermione knew she shouldn't but she couldn't help the vicious feeling of satisfaction. She had to concentrate hard not to have it show on her face though. And she wasn't about to forgive him that easily. As Draco had said, he'd made her cry. As Stori had said, he'd better beg at her feet.

"Okay." She simply said. He squinted his eyes shut a second and took a deep breath then, probably trying to choose his words wisely.

"I just … could we talk? Over coffee? Somewhere out of work, calmly? You could … you could talk to me like you used to … before I was pointed head Auror?" She frowned, and he continued, burying himself even deeper. "Look I've been as neglecting as you've been with the promotion … you know how it goes …"

"No I don't." She warned. He winced, openly, but still kept going:

"We stopped talking after your first … you know … after you lost it. It was the same time I got my promotion, and you yours."

"I beg you pardon?" She hissed and he gulped. "Are you blaming work now?" Surely he wasn't, right? She'd snap.

"No I'm not. You know I'm not good at this, alright? It's just … I miss you." He pleaded, and Hermione had to admit he almost made up for the lame atrocious excuse he'd just made. Still, it wasn't enough. Indulgence seemed to have left her when he was concerned.

"You've been ignoring me for months, you came to insult me …" She started.

"I didn't mean it. You have to know I was just …" He cut.

"What Harry?" She snapped. And then she knew something was wrong. Even before the words left his mouth. He had the same look on his face she'd seen countless time at Hogwarts. That half-guilty, half-annoyed frown he always had when being caught.

"I didn't understand. But Ron's being incoherent and I …" Ron. Of course.

"Why are you here Harry?" She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index. He stopped pretending then. Hermione didn't know if she should feel relieved as he sighed, took a step and finally sat in the chair facing her. His brows were almost knitted together in concern as he spoke the real reason why he'd come:

"Look Mione something's off I feel like he's …" But Hermione didn't want to hear it.

"Ron?" She spat. "This is about Ron? You want to make peace for …"

"No!" He cut. "Yes. I … SHIT. He's not himself Mione I feel like something's wrong."

"What do I care Harry? Why are you even here?"

"To apologise, make peace."

"Oh really? So it's not because you're worried about your precious little Ron?"

"Really." He stressed and she could see the truth in his eyes but she didn't care as he continued: "I really want to make peace. _And_ something's off with him. No please let me finish! He's gotten himself two warnings Mione, by Kingsley in person. He's been violent and incoherent and it made me realise that I was wrong to side with him and blame you too. I just …"

"Is that why Arthur's been talking to Kingsley?" She asked, knowing the answer already.

"Yes, he tried to tamper things." He scowled, clearly he didn't like the idea.

Something else came to mind then:

"Is that why you had Ron's interview cancelled?" She asked and again, she knew the answer in the way he refrained from cringing.

"Yes, if the press had …"

"What did he say about me?" She queried.

"I … I …" He stuttered. She huffed. She'd known, right? Even Stori had known.

"You know Harry, I never let you down. Ever. He did. And yet you picked a side and insulted me. You chose to believe whatever bullshit Ron's been feeding you. You chose to ignore my letters. You chose to ask Ginny to take care of it, didn't you?"

"I … We talked about this Mione, I said I was sorry …"

"And I don't care for apologies." She snapped. "I want to know why you're really here? Because Ron's temper sure isn't anything new."

"It is. Something's off. He's incoherent. He …" He cut himself abruptly but the last crumbs of patience Hermione had had were gone and she barked:

"WHAT?"

"Not here please … I don't want to make a scene someone could …" He worried, his eyes darting to the door.

"What?" She practically sobbed in anger. "See you insult me again?"

"Why?" He asked, worry vanished from his face then. "Is Malfoy here?" That was spite if she could recognise it.

"Leave Draco out of this." She hissed.

"Draco?" He exclaimed. "Since when is he _Draco_?"

* * *

Blaise had been pacing around all day. First, Astoria had gone out early to meet with her sister and fish out what the lunch with her father would be about. Second, when he'd apparated to his place, Draco had already been gone to work. He was meeting with possible buyers that day and would be home late.

Blaise had waited impatiently until four o'clock before realising that Astoria wouldn't write, she was either still with her father, either leaving him. He had no one to whine to but Hermione then. He knew that she had no trial to prepare and decided that he could always try to pull her out of work early. That would definitely occupy him until Stori came back - if she ever came back - or until Draco got home. He could even try to have her over as a little surprise for the lad.

Right. Good idea.

Blaise apparated straight in the Ministry, passed security, and walked to the lift.

Of course redface would be there. He was with his older redface. Weasel father that was. Ageing didn't look so good on him, he was almost bald. After grimacing at the nefarious sight, Blaise took a deep breath and plastered his most ugly smirk on his mouth. It had the desired effect. Weasel junior's already red - and conveniently angry - face turned almost purple. That shade suited him less than red which said a lot. Purpleface didn't get anytime to say anything though that his father dragged him by the arm, a menacing drawl twisting his mouth.

Blaise took the lift quite content with himself. Maybe it wouldn't be so much of a bad day after all.

He stood corrected as soon as the door to the lift opened. He could hear the shouting even before stepping out of the brutal cage. The bint Davis scowled at him. Although Blaise didn't know if it was because of the argument going on at the end of the corridor, or because he was there.

"Astoria isn't there." She said.

"I came to see Hermione." He shrugged, taking a step further.

"She's busy."

"I can hear." He stepped around her desk to go see what the fuss was about.

"Hey you're not supposed to ... "

"Mind your own business Davis." He spat. She gave up.

Blaise heard a man that certainly was the golden boy shout something before he reached the door, and when he opened it, it was Hermione's turn to scream:

"SINCE YOU FUCKED OFF MY LIFE AND HE'S NOT!" Both were standing above her desk, accusing fingers pointed to the other.

"What? What ... What do you mean?" Potter babbled stupidly. Blaise couldn't help himself when he realised Hermione was so livid, she hadn't even noticed him:

"What the fuck is going on in here?" He demanded.

"Blaise?" She jumped. The goggled shite turned around.

"Zabini." He drawled. "What …"

"What do you want from her Potter?" Blaise cut.

"What do you care?" He barked in answer. "It's none of your business!"

"Oh it is. Trust me. Leave her alone." He warned. He was not the kind to throw empty threats around, the bastard could be certain of it.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Potter sneered and Blaise was about to answer something scathing when Hermione cut him:

"Blaise please … Harry I'm going to ask one last time. Why are you here?"

"Not in front of him." He refused, crossing his arms atop his chest. Stupid wanker.

"I've got nothing to hide from him." Hermione challenged and Blaise suddenly felt somehow flattered.

"I see. Then I've got nothing to tell you." Potter fumed and started to go. Blaise saw Hermione swallow then, and she gave in a low but visibly pained voice:

"Right. Then go back to fucking off my life."

The bastard snorted, and only hesitated a second at Blaise's warning glare to turn around and still answer her: "Ron is right. I didn't believe him. I came here because I thought he was loosing it but … obviously I was wrong."

"What is that supposed to mean?" She frowned but Potter was at Blaise's side at the door then, and, not without his own hateful glare at Blaise, walked away with just:

"Goodbye Hermione."

* * *

Draco walked out of the building as soon as the meeting was over. Four propositions, all reasonable, all about the same amount of money. He didn't really care though, all he wanted was to be rid of the burden. He walked back to Blaise's to try and empty his mind.

His mother, whom he hadn't really tormented himself with in months, mostly because he'd had a lot to do instead, was all he could think about then. There was nothing to debate though. She had some thinking to do.

But Draco couldn't possibly guess what she'd do, and it unnerved him. Would she hold her ground and keep ignoring him? Would she come to her senses and finally see the truth?

How come she hadn't known anyway?

How come she had never seen? His father had been a death eater for Salazar's sake!

Had he lied to her all these years? Or had she chosen to ignore it, pretended she didn't know, until she believed it? More likely.

Had she blinded herself out of love? Probably.

But then she'd been there! When her own son had been forced to take the mark! When Voldemort had assigned him with a suicide mission! When his father had made him sign that oath!

Had he always come first and before Draco? What kind of mother was she?

Right. She was a Black.

He'd been raised by countless nurses and elves.

His father had always come first for her.

Draco hadn't even noticed he'd been pacing around Blaise's kitchen. A tawny owl he now recognised was at the window. The owl wasn't tapping its beak on the glass though. It seemed as though he'd tired out of it. How long had it been waiting there?

Draco hurried to open the window, and the owl perched instantly on his shoulder. This time it didn't go away as soon as he'd freed it from the letter. Instead, it started beaking his ear softly.

Draco gave him a treat from Blaise's jar. The owl went away after extirpating seven of those out of him. It must have waited all day on the window sill.

 _Draco,_

 _I had no idea you liked my handwriting so much as to have it framed. I'm flattered, if a little disturbed.  
Maybe you should frame these instead, at least they'll be useful to clean up the mess you made at Blaise's:_

 _Generis Notas, organises a paragraph, sentence, scroll. Just point at the page, circle a specific area if you only need it there._

 _Nobilis Litterarum, sorts through scattered documentation by categories. Twist your wand up and right, and circle the mess. Should do. It will put everything in piles according to the type of documents though, (scrolls, books etc) if you don't think precisely about how you want it ordered (it takes practice, but once you get it, you can sort your mess through very complicated categories, up to ten piles)._

 _See you Saturday then,_

 _Hermione._

Draco chuckled, and stared at the small handwriting a minute more than necessary.

Well, here was his bit of complicated magic to practice then. He started right away.

He didn't realise the letter itself had cleared his inward turmoil. All he thought about that evening, were Hermione's charms, and to practice with his new wand.

* * *

Hermione took a few steadying breaths, tears threatening to spill. She wouldn't cry. NO. He didn't deserve her tears.

But she'd hoped, hadn't she? When he'd said he wanted to apologise, she'd hoped that even if she'd make him suffer a little bit, things would arrange themselves between them. She'd been so terribly wrong.

Blaise was still there, glaring at the corridor where Harry had disappeared.

"Why were you here?" She asked when she could trust her voice again.

"Well, Stori told me you weren't working late and I was bored." He shrugged. "Thought we could go make Witch Weekly gossip somewhere but …" Like she'd believe that.

"Really?" She was certain Tracey could hear the scepticism in her voice.

"Err … She's still with her father …" He grimaced.

"She hasn't called me Blaise …"

"I figured." He shrugged. "I just had to do something and Draco's busy with the selling …"

"So, I was your last resort?"

"Yes." He smirked.

"Nice." She pouted, her burning tears receding.

"Well I didn't come for nothing, at least this was entertaining. Are you alright?" He asked and Hermione couldn't hide her surprise at his question. He rolled his eyes and watched her expectantly until she sighed:

"Yes."

"Were you about to make peace before I arrived?" He asked, frowning as if he were trying to decide whether he liked the idea or not. "Is it my fault it …"

"No. It's not your fault." Hermione cut. "Actually, I'm glad you came."

"Really?" He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows as he always did. She chuckled.

"Of course." She smirked back, trying to muster a suggestive smile. He grimaced uneasily, making her laugh.

"Walk me back?" He asked, chining the door. She nodded, after all she had nothing more to do, and after what had just happened she wouldn't be able to concentrate anyway. She took her bag and they walked out of the Ministry together.

Blaise didn't say another word. He didn't joke when everyone in the atrium watched them with a confused frown. He walked purposely close to her, but didn't say a word. Not a single word.

Once they were out on the clicking pavement of muggle London, Hermione asked: "You really are worried?" Although it sounded more as a statement.

"Nah, she'll handle it." He dismissed, clearly lying.

"Sure." She smiled.

"Yeah, I'll wait at her place anyway." He said. She knew better than to give reassuring words. He didn't care for them. Once they reached the corner she usually turned to head home by foot, he stopped as if he knew and gave: "See you tomorrow." turning to her, half a smirk on his face.

"Oh, right." With all this, she'd forgotten.

"Draco'll be there." He smirked fully now, his worry forgotten.

"I know." She frowned suspiciously.

"Are you happy?" He grinned.

"What kind of question is that?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "I just know he is." Hermione was not really in the mood though:

"What … Blaise stop that …" She pleaded.

"Stop what? Telling the truth? You know he's debated for hours before sending you that thank you card? What did it say?"

"It said thank you." Hermione felt herself blush a tad as she reckoned where that note was now. It passed quickly though. No one knew.

"Right. Why did you answer then?"

"To ask him to come tomorrow Blaise. I'm certain you know that already since Stori asked for it." Tricked she'd been, indeed.

"Alright I do. But I know something you don't." He taunted.

"Which is?" She found herself asking and shut her mouth abruptly. Idiot. Blaise chuckled and then drew his face close to hers:

"He finds you pretty." He purred. Hermione felt her whole face grow scarlet. He laughed this time and she didn't find anything to say as he added: "And I know you find him pretty too _Mione_." She found her wit back instantly:

"Well I find you pretty too and it doesn't mean anything."

"No denying? Good. You can kiss him first tomorrow then." OH! That damned smirk! How?

"You … you … How did you …" She stuttered.

"We were there." There was a pause then. During which Hermione grew enraged:

"I'm going to kill you …" She growled.

"Nah you're not, you love me." He dismissed with a pompous wave of his hand in the air.

"Blaise please … Don't make this awkward …" She practically begged, not seeing how else she could have him stop that charade.

"I won't." He conceded a bit too fast. "I swear." He added at her glare and then: "If you confess that you like him."

"I do, as a _friend_."

"Yeah right and I'm ugly." He scoffed.

"It's true!"

"You're going to break his heart then." His false sadness was rather irritating, so much actually that she didn't really understood right away what he'd just said and answered:

"Nonsense."

"Are you sure?" He asked. "I reckon he kissed you first."

Hermione difficultly resisted the urge to grab her face in her hands then. Instead she swore:

"Merlin's sodding beard … I can't believe you watched, you pervert! And it wasn't even a kiss it was …"

"A pathetic little peck. I know." He cut. "Wished it'd be more?" He taunted. Oh by Godric that infuriating sly little smirk of his!

"Sod off!" She barked, only making him chuckle.

"I'll take that as a yes. Look, I promise I won't make it awkward, but you have to admit that there's something going on between you two."

"You just sound like Stori." She muttered.

"Oh so you confessed to her already?"

"No I didn't."

"There's something to confess though?"

"Blaise, either you stop that now, either I hex your balls off." She gave as a final warning. He seemed to catch the tone.

"Alright. Alright. See you tomorrow." He cringed, lifting both hands in surrender.

That idiot still blew her a kiss as he walked away. He'd managed to make her smile. No wonder Astoria had fallen for him when he was still acting like a pig. He knew how to do.

* * *

 **A/N:** Okay so, these two chapters were supposed to be one, the usual chapter between two encounters, but I got carried away in a insomniac kind of trance so I cut it in half. I think I rewrote it five or six times hence the really, really, really late update for which I apologise. I hope you forgive me.

Also, I'm moving in a couple of weeks, and the place I'll live in is currently a ruin that will require a lot of my time. The next 10 chapters are roughly drafted or half-written for the most part so it might not affect the updates but we never know … Just wanted to warn you that I'll be really busy but don't think I gave up if I miss an update here and there … I promise I'll post this story till the end.

Anyway can you smell it? What do you think is about to happen? I'd really like to know. Oh and I'm really glad you liked last chapter! Thanks for the lovely reviews. Lucie.


	40. Chapter 40

Friday, June 27th, 2003.  
Part one: Such a pleasant encounter.

Hermione's salvation from the eating disease that was boredom came in the name of the British Prime Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shackelbolt, that Friday morning at precisely seven o'clock. He came in with a case of violation of the statute of secrecy.

An elder woman had been arrested by aurors as she'd been shooting hexes to muggles, in plain sight of course, claiming they were all trying to steal her hat.  
Dementia hadn't even been put in question by the aurors, until her ex-husband had come along, claiming she'd always been a partisan of death eaters, and had faked dementia to get away with the Azkaban sentence.

The report from Saint Mungo's was inconclusive, as the woman was a natural occlumens, and the interrogation by aurors still taking place.  
The case was delicate, the investigation led by mediwizards as well as aurors, and was to be treated with most care.

Kingsley couldn't chair the trial himself, being busy with international cooperation meetings starting the next week so, he spent the majority of the day in Hermione's office to brief her, among other things. First, they reviewed every collected detail about the coming trial, then discussed an issue he'd received multiples complaints about, concerning a couple of regulations about international selling of magical goods Hermione would have to work on as soon as possible, then he announced her that she was invited to attend the next international magical law conference in Paris and that she'd be able to bring a guest - Astoria's squeak of excitement at that announcement he decidedly ignored - next, they discussed briefly - he knew the answer already - if she'd accept giving an interview about the regulations once she'd have worked something for the Wizengamot - she said no and other than frowning he didn't comment - and finally he stopped talking and went away with a little smirk:

"Should keep you occupied. I feared you'd get bored these days."

How he'd ended up in Gryffindor, Hermione would never know.

She'd wished for work though, and well, her wish was granted.

The fact that Astoria refused to talk about meeting her father until they'd be done reviewing all Kingsley had left them, and the fact that Tracey was already sorting through the documents, making a pile for each witch, made Hermione beyond the thanking-Merlin kind of grateful. Work first. Those witches were the greatest.

Plus, it kept her mind busy all day, and thoughts of Harry, at bay.

Once the work was split, Astoria stayed behind, looking as though she had something to say. She didn't though.

"Yes, I'll take you to the conference Stori." Obviously.

And obviously she received a crushing hug she should have expected, along with a few joyful squeals, before being able to get to work.

* * *

Blaise was taking an eternity to get ready. It was becoming the more irritating. What man took more than maximum twenty minutes to get ready?

Was that all he did all day? Comb his stupid hair and put fragrance on?

The scent tickled Draco's nose from the living for Salazar's sake!

"Are you ever going to get out of that bloody bathroom or do I have to go there alone?" He barked from the couch.

Blaise finally emerged and except from the robes, he looked exactly the same.

"What were you doing in there? Wanking? If you were I swear I'm moving out!" Draco continued.

"Don't give me false hopes. I was getting dressed you impatient idiot."

"They're going to wait for us."

"And? Can't wait to see miss bushy-hair in her sexy work robes?" Blaise smirked.

"Shut up."

"You know she's quite happy you'll be there." He taunted, watching Draco with prying eyes, as if he were seeking for something in particular on Draco's face. Whatever it was, Draco didn't want to know.

"Stop that Blaise." He ordered.

"What? It's true."

"And what makes you think that?" He sighed exasperatedly. "Your bloody wild imagination? Was that what you were doing in the bathroom? Picturing her?" He tried to taunt but it was the less effective reversal of banter he'd ever done apparently. Blaise was quick to snap:

"No, I leave that to you at night. I can't find my copy of Witch Weekly any more …"

"You fucking …"

Draco was left pestering alone. Blaise had disapparated. Straight to the restaurant. Which of course incapacitated him to say anything as both witches were already there when he joined Blaise in.

He wouldn't get away with it that easily though. Draco would make sure he got hit somewhere really painful for that.

Although he forgot his awful wrath as soon as he caught sight of Hermione. She looked pissed and Draco's paranoid mind kicked in again, leaving him irritatingly nervous all of a sudden.

* * *

Astoria came in just as Hermione put down the last scroll of parchment:

"It's almost time, let's go."

"It's still early maybe we could …" Hermione started.

"Without the last reports from the auror's department there's nothing more we can do for now and I want a chat and mostly a drink."

Hermione followed her out of the office without arguing. If she needed a drink, maybe things hadn't gone so well with her father. They apparated directly out of the Ministry to Diagon Alley, and Astoria dragged her along a few streets Hermione had never been into.

They reached a small restaurant that, if the window looked rather cheap, the inside countered the first impression. It was definitely an expensive place.

Magical eternal candles floated above the tables giving the place an air of intimacy, and if most of the tables were pushed in corners, you could still get a glimpse of the white linens covering them, as well as the carved mahogany legs. Silver tableware, crystal glasses and a composition of flowers sat before each plush chair, which Hermione had to admit looked beyond comfortable. At the centre of the large room hanged a crystal and gold chandelier, lined with golden chains and at the far back, just before the door to what she presumed were the kitchens, a gigantic mantle piece took a large part of the wall, the stone engraved and carved in intricate patterns.

Hermione was left breathless for a few seconds before turning to Astoria. She didn't need to ask though, that her friend answered the unvoiced question:

"They're known for their discretion, and after the last Witch Weekly I'd rather not my father believe Blaise has proposed."

"Oh."

They were seated in a corner of the gigantic candle lit room by a very straight-backed maitre d', who bowed before leaving them to peruse the menu. The chairs were indeed, the most comfortable she'd ever dropped her skinny butt onto. Hermione didn't know that posh wizarding restaurants had the same nasty habit of giving price-free menus to women though. She frowned at hers but dismissed it, and opened her mouth to ask about Astoria's father but the witch beat her to it:

"So, Potter?" She asked, a displeased frown on her soft features.

"Err … Blaise can't keep his mouth shut, can he?"

"I won't bother to answer that."

"Well I suppose he told you what happened. Nothing's changed, if anything it's even worse." Hermione sighed.

"I knew I shouldn't take that day off." Astoria scowled. "I would have kicked his arse."

Hermione chuckled and the pretty witch gave her a vicious smirk. She most definitely would have.

"Thanks for the support." Hermione smiled.

Astoria only chuckled and Hermione decided that her curiosity was more important than Harry's self-righteous warnings.

"Anyway, how were things with your father?" She asked.

"We managed to resolve the differences calmly."

Hermione didn't believe a single word of that.

"Really?" She asked, one of her eyebrows weirdly brushing her hairline.

"Err … no." Astoria grimaced. "I told him to mind his own business, and that he could disown me for all I cared."

"Ouch. How did he take that?"

"As usual."

"Wh …"

"He gave up Mione. He always does." She sighed. "Told me to do whatever I wanted but to avoid scandals." She paused and mumbled: "And that he expected a proposal within the next year."

"Oh. So, officially officially with Blaise then."

"Yes."

"How do you feel about that? How does he feel about that?" Hermione asked warily.

"I think he didn't listen to a single word I said last night. He thought I was leaving him."

Hermione snorted: "Like you'd do that."

"Exactly." Astoria chuckled. "I'd rather he keep believing though, the sex was grandiose …"

"Oh my." Hermione cut. "I do not need details."

"Right. Forgot you were a prude." Astoria smirked.

"Shut it."

Astoria stifled a laugh and they were cut by the waiter, who brought them their drinks. They took a sip and Hermione tried to retaliate the banter: "He better not chicken out now."

"I don't think he will."

"You sure?" Hermione taunted. Astoria looked in fact so sure of herself that it did nothing but make her huff.

"Well he's not the kind to move slowly, is he?" She shrugged.

"To move on slowly you mean." Hermione didn't bother wiping the ugly smirk from her mouth then. "For what did you fall already?" She pretended to wonder. "Oh, right. I'm a breakfast and more kind of guy."

"Shut it." Astoria snapped. She laughed just after Hermione did though.

And then, she smirked, not a good sign.

"At least he's been in my bed." She taunted. "Not like a certain pretty blond …"

"Oh my don't start!"

"Why? Would do you some good to play touchy-touchy …"

"Shut …"

* * *

"Ladies." Blaise greeted, taking a seat between the facing women, leaving Draco to do the same on their other side. None of them answered and Draco realised suddenly that his paranoia had been wrong, they were pissed at each other. No, correction, Hermione was pissed at Astoria. She was glaring at the smirking brunette.

"Did we interrupt something?" Blaise frowned, visibly enjoying the situation. Astoria opened her mouth but shut it instantly at the impressive warning in Hermione's eyes. Draco's curiosity suddenly surpassed the thought that he never wanted to be at the other end of that look. She cut any questions short though:

"I guess if you weren't this late you'd know. Now you'll never find out. Right?" She drawled, not leaving Astoria from sight.

"Right." The last answered, her smirk never deflating.

"It's his fault." Draco found himself justifying.

"No kidding." Hermione chuckled, turning her gaze to him for the first time since … Sunday morning.

"Well, a king ought to make an entrance." Blaise gave, pompously waving for a waiter to come take their order.

Hermione slapped her mouth to stifle her laughter. Draco didn't bother to spare Blaise's feelings, he burst out in mocking laughter and she was quick to follow. "A king!" She laughed, pointing a finger at him, her eyes on Draco. It calmed him down instantly, things were indeed back to normal. Draco hadn't entirely forgotten his wrath though and decided Blaise deserved a little banter:

"You used to make ladies melt with such lame catch phrases." He said. "Now you make them laugh. Wedding plans made you tacky it seems." He smirked, trying to muster his worst vicious face. It worked.

"Cause you've got so much success with Ladies it's overwhelming." Blaise snapped in answer. Apparently the wedding talks were grating on his nerves. Good.

* * *

Hermione caught the warning in Blaise's eyes, and Astoria was no fool either. Apparently wedding talks were out of order.

The evening unfolded on that note though, mocking comments, scathing answers, laughter, drinking, pompous declarations, and more laughter.

By the time they were ordering dessert, Blaise had called himself king, prince, most handsome man on the planet, among other things on the same streak, Draco had retaliated all declarations with the appropriate insults, Astoria had sneaked in a few of her sly comments and Hermione could proudly say that her own comments had made everyone laugh too. She was getting rather good at that mocking game they seemed to be playing.

All in all, she'd spent one of the best evenings she had in a long time. The firewhiskey was probably helping but, just as she'd told herself just the day before, everything was fine, nothing – not even a messy-haired green-eyed wizard - was bothering her, and it felt good.

So good it was surely wrong but the liquor made her forget that reasoning. It was good and it was all that mattered.

As they perused the menu once more, the conversation deflated a moment - probably because their stomachs were all too full for the coming dessert – and Hermione found herself watching Draco instead of the long list of priceless goods listed before her eyes. She realised things were exactly as they'd been before, and that Draco didn't seem uncomfortable or anything. He lifted his face from his menu and didn't even twitch at catching her looking at him - he was probably too tipsy to realise she'd been staring - and smiled. She could do nothing but to give him his smile back. He'd smiled so easily. Merlin, he smiled.

That was new.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the waiter, and when dessert arrived, Hermione realised that for the first time, they'd all spoken to each other, and that none of them had ended up ignoring the others. It made her smile a very private smile and, as they all started on their pastries, she wondered if she could ask Draco about his company.

The awkwardness that she'd expected between them hadn't happened and, shrugging to herself, she decided that friends talked to each other, and that she wanted to know. It wasn't like she hadn't enjoyed the, for once, shared evening but …

She just wanted to know.

"So, how's the selling?" She asked, turning to him.

Draco's small smile then bordered relief. Apparently he'd been wondering the same thing. He didn't even comment on her little chuckle - which she hoped hid the sudden heat she felt on her drunken face - and started explaining right away how he'd sent the notice around, how many possible buyers were interested, and so on until they were finished with the last course.

He seemed … rather happy. Although there was still that hint of something tense just at the collar of his black tailored shirt. He was wearing quite the expensive dressed robes that evening, Hermione could see the quality of the material from her seat. He looked taller than Blaise, leaning over his plate to talk to her, his left hand toying with his fork while the other waved slightly as he explained the apparently tremendous process of selling a company. It seemed that the amount of paperwork was far beyond his nerve capacity to take in.

Still, as he told her how grateful he was for his secretary, comparing her to the 'daft pile of cheap slutty robes' he'd had before, Hermione couldn't help but notice the way his eyes shone. The stale grey, although a tad blurry by alcohol, glistened, as the corner of his lid pleated.

He smiled so easily now that it caught her breath a moment.

It changed everything.

If he'd been already 'pretty' as Astoria had put it, with that hint of something dark, something sombre shadowing the air around him, now … he looked like the only flake of white snow in a black desert.

Godric's knickers what was wrong with her? A flake? Malfoy?

No, Draco. Smiling Draco, in expensive black tailored robes.

Damned was Astoria.

He was handsome.

Gods what was she doing?

She shook her head slightly and asked quickly about how he'd drafted the notice, even though she knew exactly how one was supposed to do, and tried to quit staring.

Damn Astoria for putting those bullshit ideas in her head.

Damn him for kissing her!

His smile bordered smirking.

Merlin he'd caught her staring, hadn't he?

She felt her eyes grow wide in embarrassment, heat starting to stain her cheeks and then, just then, he smirked fully. She got a glimpse of that boy she'd met twelve years before then. That malicious glint at the corner of his mouth she'd seen countless times, minus the vicious hate.

Something she hadn't seen in him once since they'd met again.

The waiter cut the atrocious moment and, although Draco kept drunkenly smirking his face off, this time, both he and Hermione ignored the couple's snickers about their 'close conversation'. They were friends, friends talked.

They didn't stare. Neither kissed!

Err … pecked.

They all walked out of the establishment, their steps slow, probably from stuffing themselves up to the point of implosion.

Although after they'd passed a few shops Hermione realised that none of them seemed too keen on disapparating home. She didn't make the exception, somehow not willing to see the evening end just then.

Astoria voiced her thoughts:

"Let's go to Hog's Head? Get a few more drinks before we head home?"

Apparently they'd all been waiting for that, since no one argued and they went back to the Leaky Cauldron to use the floo.

Aberforth smirked at the sight of them and didn't even ask. He levitated a bottle of firewhiskey straight to the table at the farthest corner of the gloomy empty room. He still gave a warning glance at Hermione.

No puking apparently.

A few drinks later though, Astoria and Blaise were apparently too drunk to hold it in much longer, an entire evening was already a prowess. As they sat next to each other, nothing kept them from snogging. They were even playing with their foot under the table. Which was rather embarrassing to be honest.

Draco growled under his breath, and Hermione found she shared the feeling. She only noticed just then the wand he was playing with on the table.

Thank Merlin a subject of conversation.

"Oh! Is that your new wand?" She asked.

"Yes." He smiled. Again.

"What is it?"

"Cedar, unicorn's hair, err … eleven and a quarter inches. Here." He handed it to her. Even being a muggle-born Hermione knew that it wasn't something a wizard did often. If ever. Landing one's wand to someone else was a show of trust she had never expected from him.

"Oh no, I wouldn't …"

"You can look at it." He dismissed, pushing it on the table for her.

Hermione took the wand in her hands, and tried to remember what exactly she knew about Cedar wands. She had read a lot about it when she'd bought her first and only wand. Hers was made of vine wood, had a dragon heartstrings core, and was ten and three quarters inches long. She'd read that vine woods was uncommon, and that most of their owners were seekers of a greater purpose, had a grand vision, often a personality with hidden depths. Or so the book told. She'd never considered herself having an intricate personality, but she knew that she'd always sought to do her best to help on a grander scale. Which was what she hoped she did with her job anyway. She'd also read about cores and reckoned that dragon heartstrings made for fast learning, and powerful spells.

Onto Draco's wand she had to think though. As for the wood she didn't remember correctly and it bothered her. For the core, unicorn hair, she knew for certain, gave the most consistent magic, no fluctuations or issues. She also knew that unicorn hair wands almost never turned to the dark side. She had a little smile at that.

"What was your previous wand?" She asked out of curiosity.

"Hawthorne, unicorn hair, ten inches." He reckoned, pleating his eyes.

"Oh." Unicorn again then. Just by looking at his wand people should have known he'd never be a real death eater. Strange that no one had ever noticed.  
She remembered what Hawthorne wood gave to wands. It was the most contradictory type of wood for a wand. The wood itself was paradoxical, its leaves and blossoms healed when its cut branches smelled of death. It usually went for a conflicted nature in an owner, which, on reflection was another trait no one had really noticed about Draco when he was younger. The inward turmoil he must have lived through had its path all depicted from the start then. How interesting. Why had she never given wands more thoughts before?

Now, what was for Cedar?

"What's racing in there?" He asked, lifting a hand to take his wand back, one of his eyebrows drawn to his hair line.

"I can't remember what Cedar wood means." She scowled.

"Oh. Doesn't really matter, the wand chose me anyway." He shrugged.

"Yes, but …"

"What?"

"Your last wand … it was exactly for you when you were younger."

"How so?" He frowned.

"Em. Well, unicorn hair wands are the hardest to convert to the dark arts for instance." She explained.

"Really?" He startled.

"Yes."

"Oh." He seemed taken aback and watched his drink a moment.

"And Hawthorne …" She started but hesitated.

"Yes?" He pushed, apparently curious.

"Well they usually choose owners with a conflicted nature. They're very good for healing spells but also curses for instance."

"Oh." He went back to his drink, visibly lost in thoughts. He hadn't known.

Hermione wrecked her brain to find what Cedar wood meant. She'd have to recite the whole book. Why she persisted on trying to find out, she didn't know.  
Alright, in alphabetical order, acacia, alder, apple, ash, aspen, beach, blackthorn …

* * *

Draco wondered how he hadn't known any of this. How was it that no one had ever told him that? No wonder he'd been a shitty death-eater after all. It'd been in him all along.

He started to ask more but Hermione seemed somewhere else then. He watched her mind race, her big brown eyes blur, well get even blurrier, and her right tiny hand fist in her mass of curls from frustration. He found himself completely hypnotised by her moving gaze. It swept from left to right again, just as if she were reading. Until a strand of the rebellious mass fell on her face and she blew at it absent-mindedly. Draco almost chuckled like an idiot when the strand kept falling back on her face. After a moment she gave up and he realised he'd been smiling.

He stopped.

She started tapping the tip of her left hand fingers on the table and after a minute of silent mumbling, her eyes grew wide and shot to him.

"Found it?" He asked. Stupid question really. She nodded, hesitated only a second and then started:

"Cedar wands, strength of character, perspicacity, perception, unusual loyalty, frightening adversary, especially in the face of harm to those the owner cares about."

"Oh."

Why did that provoke flashes of death threats to Pansy then, Draco decided to pretend he didn't know. She was still watching him though and Draco had to turn his gaze away from the inquisitive eyes. He felt heat creep up his face and tried to hide it in his drink.

It quickly receded with a few breaths, but threatened to come back as Draco saw from the rim of his glass that Blaise and Astoria had been listening intently to the conversation.

"What?" He practically barked at Blaise.

"I always knew you'd fight for me, mate." The last smirked.

Of course both women had a little laugh. The worst wasn't the joke itself, just that it was true. Now that he thought of it, were anyone to hurt Blaise - or his mother for instance (whether she pretended not to be such) - that person would certainly end up in great trouble. He flashed a little look at the two women currently at his sides.

Well … maybe both were concerned too.

Maybe? Who was he kidding …

Draco would never admit it - he had trouble enough doing so to himself – true or not though, and he would even pretend it weren't the case.

"It only works with the ones I care about Blaise. And each time you open that sodding mouth of yours, you drift away from that category." He sneered before it became awkward.

"Nah, I know you love me." Blaise blew him a kiss. Draco would have hit him weren't he too far away. Astoria was giggling and Hermione … well, she faked a gag. Draco glared half-heartedly, the childishness somehow funnier than exasperating. The grin she gave him just then he turned away from. That grin …

* * *

The four of them jumped out of their skin as the door to the pub, who had stayed gratefully closed all evening, banged open. Hermione couldn't believe her eyes. Ron was there, stumbling on his feet, a bottle of what seemed to be elf wine in his right hand, his eyes searching the place without seeing. He was followed closely by a panting Neville that spotted her right away:  
"Hermione I'm so sorry I couldn't …"  
"HERE SHE IS! THE SLYTHERIN SLUT!" 


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N:** Skip this part if you didn't wait months for this update …

Guys, I apologise for the atrociously long hiatus. I told you I might skip an update here and there … understatement of the century.

To be quick, we bought a house, rebuilt it entirely but for the four walls that make it stand.

Which _only_ took two months of work 24/7. (For the big work eh, it's still not finished obviously.)

I didn't write at all.

Two months away from the keyboard and once I was finally able to write again, I _hated_ this chapter.

I found myself questioning the whole story, the plot, everything.

I experienced writer's block in the past but never to this extend.

Miscarriage is such a sensitive subject … I felt like the whole approach was wrong. Especially Ron's behaviour here.

But then, I realised that there was no dictated way to handle it. Just so you know, I didn't write this with no knowledge on the subject, but I still found the whole chapter wrong.

If you do too, just know that there is a third part.

Anyway, it took me four more months to get back on track.

BUT I'm back. And the next chapters are close to ready to be published.

I won't make any promises I'm not going to be able to keep and schedule the chapters though, but I'll try to publish as frequently as possible.

Thank you for your patience if you're still around, and also for the lovely reviews I got while away.

Love, Lucie.

* * *

 **End of the previous chapter:**

 _The four of them jumped out of their skin as the door to the pub, which had stayed gratefully closed all evening, banged open. Hermione couldn't believe her eyes. Ron was there, stumbling on his feet, a bottle of what seemed to be elf wine in his right hand, his eyes searching the place without seeing. He was followed closely by a panting Neville that spotted her right away:_

 _"Hermione I'm so sorry I couldn't …"_

 _"HERE SHE IS! THE SLYTHERIN SLUT!"_

* * *

Friday, June 27th, 2003.

Part two: Such a horrific encounter.

Astoria Greengrass was, and proudly so, a Slytherin. There was not, and had never been, a thing in the world that could stand in the way between her and what she wanted.

For instance, she hadn't wanted to be the perfect little pure-blooded girl her father had wanted her to be so, she hadn't been.

She'd played in the grass, ruined her overly-expensive shoes and done everything to annoy her dance teacher until she'd been kicked out of class.

She hadn't wanted to stay at the family home in the wait of finding a rich heir she could marry and milk out of his money so, she'd fled from home, taken a crappy job at the Ministry, paid for her own flat and, maybe a little out of spite, slept with countless men less than appropriate for wedding.

The fact that she'd fallen for Blaise Zabini of all people, and decided to settle with tall dark-skinned handsomeness topped with what her father considered a considerably disputable reputation, was only convenient.

She hadn't wanted to use her family ties to climb the social ladder either so, she'd worked her arse off and refused any suspicious job offers that could have come from one of her father's numerous acquaintances, as well as to use the Gringott's vault he kept loading every month anyway.

She hadn't approached Hermione Granger, the Hermione Granger she'd admired for years and even so before the war, in that purpose either, but hard work paid and the witch had recognised her talent and hard-working skills. It was only fair.

After working a while with the brilliant witch though, Astoria had found that she rather liked her, when the woman was on a good day. It had definitely made the younger Greengrass want to do something about the famous witch's mood.

The obvious decision had been to become her friend, and so, she had.

What people didn't know about Astoria Greengrass though, especially since she had quite the reputation among men, was that if ambition was a strong trait of character she possessed, loyalty was the only other that rivalled the first.

She was loyal to those she cared about.

Which only represented a very negligible amount of people, but still.

Hermione Granger had quickly become one of those people.

Now that Astoria was her friend, the only thing she wanted for her, was to be happy.

And nothing stood in the way of what Astoria Greengrass wanted.

So, it was the least to say that, when Hermione's drunk and stupid ex-husband arrived to interrupt a very well going evening, the pretty witch saw red.

After everything she'd done to protect her boss' raw feelings, the idiot had to poke his nose in the middle of a 'firlty' evening between the two stubbornest people she cared about – besides Blaise that was – and start ruining everything Astoria had worked for.

How were they supposed to realise that they liked each other – even if of course to anyone else that bit was quite obvious – and had better stop flirting to snog already, if the ex-husband came in drunk and with a quite substantial list of insults to give away?

Oh.

Maybe by letting Draco take her defence? Again? Lucky once, lucky twice.

If only things were that easy.

Astoria watched the exchange grow quite heated, Weasley stuttering and spitting in front of him while the bottle of elf wine he was holding split down his feet pathetically, and Hermione roll her eyes and sigh tiredly, her face growing sombre and more exasperated by the second.

Astoria was certain that the only reason why she hadn't exploded yet was the liquor they'd all been drinking profusely.

The pretty witch watched Draco stiffen and then clench and unclench his jaw so tightly he'd probably break teeth. She eyed Blaise to let things go when her handsome man stood and warned the redhead that, if he kept insulting Hermione, he'd end up with that bottle so far up his arse, even a dementor wouldn't be able to suck it back out.

It had only been half-heartedly that Astoria had silently warned Blaise off, the creativity in her man's insults gave her some sense of pride that warmed her heart. Still, Blaise reluctantly listened but the drunk didn't stop and Astoria almost stepped in as well when she realised that Hermione was not exasperated but miserable.

Her friend's jaw was trembling but just as Astoria was about to open her mouth, she saw Draco start to take the few steps separating them and congratulated herself for waiting and enduring the atrocious moment.

A bit too early.

"Enough." Draco drawled, attracting the drunk's attention.

"Mind your own arse Malfoy. If it weren't for us you'd be _dead_." Draco opened his mouth to retaliate but Hermione was quicker:

"Don't talk to him like that!" She barked and Astoria almost cheered.

"Why? He was a death-eater!" The idiot reminded everyone. "Don't you remember how he called you at school?"

Astoria remembered reminding both men how they'd called her at school no so long ago and when she thought Hermione would at least pause instead, she sighed dejectedly: "Stop that Ron …"

"He called you _mudblood_." The redhead spat, ignoring her and then chinned the air towards Draco, his drunken gaze burning in hate: "He meant it, you know? He even watched you get tor …"

"DO NOT finish that sentence, Ron." Hermione warned, she looked about to explode and when Astoria thought it would finally trigger Draco's anger, the last started to pale instead. Watch her what?

"Why not? It's true!"

"And I forgave him. It's in the past!" Hermione spat, taking deep breaths.

"Just like our marriage." Weasley recalled before a light moan escaped his lips."Just like our babies." He cried and that's when Astoria regretted staying silent.

Blaise exchanged a shocked look with her, although she'd already known. The only one not shocked per se was Draco.

Hermione looked about to faint though, and Astoria decided that it was enough. She took a step towards the divorcees and barked:

"That's enough Weasley!"

* * *

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face, and emptiness grip her chest. The air felt still all of a sudden and the heavy silence that followed had her rooted to the spot. Then, she heard Astoria but Ron ignored her and Hermione couldn't just look away now.

"Yeah you don't care, do you?" He bawled, taking a step further and towering her. He scared her now. Something was wrong with him.

"How dare you …" She managed to gasp, her voice trembling, and she hated it.

"I only say the truth. You never gave a damn. And then what? You found someone else to blame and pretended it just wasn't possible!" He shrieked at the end, waving his arms as though helpless.

"What? I don't ... What are you talking about?" Hermione felt lost, he was now all she could see, all she could hear, the hate in his eyes, the vindictive sneer on his mouth, the trembling hurt in his voice. He chuckled then, a hysterical edge to the sound. Almost a cackle. Something … mad.

"Bellatrix." He swore, the very name an insult in his mouth. How ironic that he sounded just like her then. "A lie. Like our bloody marriage! A lie!" He shrieked, closing again the space between them. Hermione was vaguely aware of the others loudly debating something at her back.

A lie? Bellatrix? Did he … Did he seriously not believe her?

She'd thought he'd been in denial, and had just wanted to keep hoping but it went far beyond that.

He'd never believed her.

For _real_.

And he was watching her with so much hate, so much spite that she was reminded of a night. One night in the woods, the night he'd left them. Right, he wasn't himself.

"You're drunk beyond reason." She concluded.

"I hate you." He answered.

She hadn't expected it to hurt. But it did anyway.

"I hate you." He repeated. "You've never loved me. You've never really tried. You broke my heart Mione." He pushed, his voice breaking at the end, his eyes blurring. She'd broken his heart. Hermione felt her face tense and something gripped her throat.

Her heart had been broken _too_! She balled her fists at her sides.

"But you don't care now, do you?" He continued. "You never wanted a family, am I right? You wanted your stupid career and that's all that mattered!" He paused, that little glint of hate in his eye was still there, just beside his pupil, in the light blue that coloured his irises. "It's no wonder you lost them, you know? Who in the world works fifty hours a week to help death-eater's families? You know that I still arrest some of those _monsters_? Some are still free!" He roared, years of resentment finally leaving his mouth. The scathing answer bubbling up under Hermione's lips was cut short as he let go of the bottle of wine he'd been holding. It crashed on the floor, but Ron seemed oblivious to it as his voice broke, and tears streaked his face.

"All that to lose our babies." He added in a whisper. Hermione knew she was crying too but the tears weren't only from grief then. What he said enraged her. It burned her heart, clenched her throat, and awoke a revolted fire within her chest. She felt rage, resentment, ire, spike under her skin like venom.

"Like I did it on purpose! What the hell is _wrong_ with you?" She thundered through tears she decided he didn't deserve.

"You killed something in me when you lost them. Each time I died inside Mione. I wanted a kid so bad …" He swallowed and rubbed his face in his left hand before pointing a shaking finger to her chest. "But you never really tried. All of this … It's your fault. It's _your_ fault we lost them."

Hermione froze, her breath caught in her throat and something burning fell at the pit of her stomach. She had no control over the aflame ire in her tone then:

"Bellatrix cursed me in the stomach." She roared. "I _can't_ bear children! When are you …"

"LIES! All lies! Excuses you fucking coward!"

"I am not a coward." She pushed rather quietly. "It was not my fault."

"Oh! Was it mine then?" He said before lifting his unsteady finger to her chest once more. " _You_ killed yourself at work! _You_ worked non-stop until you lost them! You never wanted kids and you did everything you could to lose them!"

A wave of shock washed through her then. She exhaled a shaky breath against her will. She felt like she was sinking into the floor under her feet. The sound of her voice then, she didn't recognise. She sounded … hurt.

"Is … is that what you really think?"

"And what else am I supposed to think?" He asked with wide eyes; "You spent almost two years buried day and night in that project to make this scum accepted back in our society!" His finger drifted to those at her back and returned to her chest. "You killed your health! You lost three babies Hermione … Three … You killed me. You broke my fucking heart."

She couldn't believe him. How dare he, again, make all this about him? _Only_ him. Always _him_.

"Because you think it didn't break mine?" She hissed.

"And how?" He shouted. "You don't have a heart!"

* * *

Draco had controlled himself. He'd been on the verge of exploding, his not-so-supposedly super loyal wand already vibrating in his hand, but he'd controlled himself. Hermione was a big girl. She stood up for herself and would surely not appreciate Draco Malfoy, of all people, to poke his nose in her post-marital business. Blaise had still cautiously stood in his way though.

But Draco had controlled himself.

Until his aunt had been mentioned.

That had felt like a giant slap right across the face.

It was his family's fault.

And he'd been there.

He'd only felt guilt then.

But then the bastard had said the one-sentence too much. The one Rita Skeeter had said at the charity.

 _You don't have a heart._

His boiling rage had only needed for his self-control to snap away and it barely took a second for Draco to lose it. He roughly pushed Blaise out of the way to throw himself at the drunk, not bothering with his wand, hate washing through him in waves.

The shock sent pain through his knuckles up to his elbow and the crack that resounded filled the suddenly silent air. Weasley fell unconscious in a lump on the floor under Draco's heavy breathing.

Although Draco realised instantly what he risked, he wasn't really concerned by the consequences then. There was worse.

What was worse was that Hermione looked shocked. He saw her big brown eyes grow wide with shock. And then … worry. And he couldn't help the pang of hurt he felt at that moment.

Her gaze kept sweeping from his hand to the atrocious bastard bleeding on the floor. The tears were drying on her face, living thin tracks on absent dimples.

She seemed to be waiting for him to say something but Draco didn't trust what could come out of his mouth then.

So, closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and did the right thing.

He felt dirty as he nodded.

She passed him to go check on the rotter. She didn't say a word but lifted her wand and shot a flare of yellow magic to his head.

"He'll be fine." She gave in a trembling voice.

Draco noticed that Longbottom had disappeared sometime during the altercation only then that he reappeared from the back room with Aberforth in tow.

The last had surely been taking a nap, he was marked with a whole new set of wrinkles.

He turned to Hermione after eyeing the unconscious crappy lump on the floor and came closer to take her by the shoulders:

"You all go. I'll handle him."

"But …"

"No discussion." He warned.

But the weasel chose that moment to wake up and he sat slowly, an accusing finger pointed to Draco's chest, the other wiping his nose. "You …" He stuttered. "You bastard …"

"Shut up or I'll do it again." Draco drawled, his anger, at Weasley, at Hermione for caring, at himself for actually caring too, threatening to blow again.

"You can try." He challenged, blood dripping from his nose and Draco almost did him the favour but Blaise stood in the way again. Although he looked about as enraged as he.

"Ron …" Hermione started.

"Get off me, you whore!"

Blaise was a hypocrite. He let go of Draco to spring to Weasley just as the last pushed Hermione off of him, but was shoved right back to Draco by a protego.

He looked livid, the glare he shot at Aberforth would have made the wisest man cower. Weasley was not a wise man though, he chuckled mockingly.

"That's enough." Aberforth's voice rebounded, low, threatening, in the whole room, making all of them freeze. "You four," He said, his voice calm again, showing all but the auror, "are going to go back home, and pretend none of this happened. I'll take care of it."

"Yeah right! Fuck off! I'll take this to court …" The drunken monster barked but was cut by a threatening spit:

"Like I'll fucking let you do that." Hermione had stood and was now just behind Draco and Blaise. "Episkey." She shot with a dirty but wet smirk Draco still found himself quite proud of. The rage made her eyes squint in threat though. If it weren't for Aberforth, Draco was certain she'd have hexed him.

"Out. Now." Aberforth's voice was enough for them all to start moving. His order didn't leave any space for discussion. Only the weasel was enough of a fool to keep mumbling under his breath.

Something about proofs.

Too bad for him the head of Law Enforcement knew how not to leave any.


	42. Chapter 42

Friday, June 27th, 2003.

Part three: Such a bitter separation.

Astoria had known, of course, it didn't take a genius to add one and one.

It took a little bit of Tracey bribing - or elbowing - and a lot of nosiness.

Being a snake in other terms.

It had also taken an acquaintance at Saint Mungo's to confirm that she wasn't speculating, neither mounting her head all by herself.

All in all, Astoria had known. She knew things she wasn't supposed to know, quite a lot of those, the only virtue she had left was that at least she'd kept those for herself. She hadn't told Blaise and hadn't needed to tell Draco.

The smashing detail that the responsibility of Hermione's condition fell back on his sadistic crazy aunt though, hadn't been a detail that had leaked. Given the face he'd made, even Draco hadn't known that particular detail.

No one had known except probably for the golden trio.

Although Potter's outburst and coward calling from a few months prior considered, Astoria doubted he'd been told.

Salazar, she'd told _no one_.

Except for her moronic ex-husband who obviously didn't believe it.

He was delusional that bit was certain and he was drinking his way further in denial it seemed. He'd been violent as well, those two warnings - another thing she knew without needing to be told - had definitely something to do with what Blaise had noticed in the prophet. Her digging had been fruitless though, his tracks had been perfectly covered - probably by Potter in person - but after all this, and Potter's visit to Hermione, Astoria didn't need confirmation.

However, watching Weasley lose his shit and spit his denial to the woman he'd once loved, the woman who had lost those babies, had shifted Astoria's opinion on the redhead, even if, of course, there was still no doubt that he was a cretin.

The man's horrid attitude though, only proved that he didn't handle well the grieving process. Denial was a bitch … he needed someone to blame and Bellatrix was long dead and six feet under. Or more six winds away. Now Astoria wished more than ever that she'd been there to witness that.

Anyway.

They'd told no one.

He had no one else to blame but Hermione.

Judging by the way the mouth of the last was still trembling, it was conspicuous that the grief was a very present matter. Of course no one tortured by cruciatus to the point of being unable to bear children – and only finding out about it after _three_ miscarriages – would be expected to get over it easily. If ever.

Only Hermione was a strong woman, and she'd long passed the denial phase. If she hadn't skipped it all together. She wasn't the type of person to fall in delusions.

She was more the type who cut herself from the world by the means of locking her office door. She got busy with work to the point of exhaustion, and often drunk to cope, but she never stopped to mop around too long.

She'd been climbing the slope back up.

Astoria took the witch by the arm as they followed the boys outside. Now, she only hoped the incident wouldn't have Hermione fall back down to the bottom of said slope and have to climb up the whole grief process all over again because her ex-husband was too weak to attempt the same.

 _He_ hadn't been the one tortured, had he?

Astoria watched ahead, Draco's back stalk away, Blaise at his side. The blond's neck was as stiff as a stick. She could guess the roll of his jaw as he clenched and released it.

She gripped Hermione's arm a little tighter, thinking.

Was she going to drink or seclude herself to recover from that?

* * *

It was strange to feel this helpless.

Blaise was not one for reassuring words. He was more into stark honesty and blunt truths. He thought Hermione was much the same in a way.

 _You better beg at her feet then_.

He had secrets, much like everybody else. He'd known she had to have some as well, what with all she'd been through with the war, flanked by two wankers.

But that sort of secret made him feel helpless.

There was nothing he could say or do that would make it better. He had nothing to say.

Blaise _always_ had something to say.

Then, words didn't come. And Hermione looked broken again.

That day he'd crossed path with her on the way to the Leaky, the day he'd realised something was wrong with her, the day he'd realised he actually cared, came back in mind.

She had the very same empty look in her eyes.

The link with his grandmother was clear now. How come he hadn't thought of it?

Because it was too horrid and unfair that even his twisted mind hadn't been able to think of it.

No wonder Draco had stubbornly kept his mouth shut.

Bellatrix though. Draco hadn't known about Bellatrix.

The guilt was palpable around his friend.

But it was not his fault and Blaise was fairly certain he knew it as well as Hermione did.

The guilt was there nonetheless.

It had been _his_ family's fault.

They'd become friends despite it. He hadn't known, but she had, and still had tolerated him and become part of his life. She'd broken his oath.

The selflessness and forgiveness of that woman were ... Startling.

So Gryffindor.

No wonder Draco had lost his shit. Weasley had better not cross her path again though or Blaise would make sure Draco didn't need to lift a finger another time.

He would.

First.

But then, as they walked out of the pub, boys walking ahead - because, really there were all too young to have to face miscarriages - Blaise was feeling helpless.

And he didn't like that feeling at all.

When she stopped though, and drew her wand, Blaise couldn't believe his ears.

"Expecto Patronum." She pronounced clearly.

That empty look in her eyes, it was gone though.

It was something else now, something Blaise had seen countless times before without even realising. Determination.

However blurred by tears.

A greyish otter sprouted out of her wand.

Was it really how Patronuses were supposed to look?

"Harry," She said. "You were right about Ron. He needs help." The more she spoke, the more Blaise's helplessness left place for sheer anger, the same he could smell emanating from Draco. "Healer Bradley at St Mungo's might be able to do something about it. He got punched, so you can use that as an excuse. But. If he talks about court, or if _any_ of you try to blame my friends for _anything_ , I'll make sure _you_ 'll regret it."

Blaise took a deep breath, the anger not quite gone, but nearly.

It _was_ Hermione Granger.

There was nothing that could change that simple fact, not even living through the worst atrocities their blasted twisted world had to offer. Which seemed to all be specially put aside just for her.

Selflessness.

Blaise should have expected it.

She'd broken Draco's oath despite all his family was responsible for after all.

If anything, selflessness, that pure kind they'd all just witnessed, was predictable.

Ronald Weasley, however despicably moronic, daft and atrociously insensitive, was hurt, broken. He'd always been a wanker, but at some point he'd had a good heart, and been on the right side of the war. She knew this better than anyone else, Blaise guessed.

Gryffindors.

There were things they didn't and would never share with Slytherins.

That vehement threatening though, was the exception. He had no doubt that she'd act on it and couldn't help but feel a little proud about it.

* * *

Draco stared. First in shock that such vehemence was expressed on their behalf.

To Potter.

Next, in something incomprehensible, as he realised she'd just made sure someone would take care of checking on the bastard.

Who cared if he were insane? He deserved to rot in his insanity for what had just happened.

Hermione didn't seem to think so.

She nodded and the Patronus ran away, disappearing in the night. She lifted her face to them then, and it was tears in her voice that she said:

"I'll head home if you don't mind." None of them had the time to do anything or try to dissuade her that she'd spun on the spot and disapparated.

"Draco?" Astoria's soft voice reached his ear and her hand his shoulder.

Draco didn't answer, instead, he took a step back and disapparated to Blaise's.

He heard the couple come around as soon as he closed his bedroom door after him.

* * *

The evening wind had slapped her right out of her anger as they'd walked out of Hog's Head.

It had only taken Hermione a few steps led by Astoria's strong grip on her arm to realise that what had just happened, was not normal.

That Harry had been right.

Ron was not himself.

Right selfish and judgemental prat or not.

So, she'd done the one last thing she had the strength to do for him. She'd informed his best friend - not hers any more - and made sure someone other than a napping Aberforth would know about his troubles.

Still, his words kept resounding in her head.

She'd needed to go.

When she arrived in her crappy street and entered the building, it was clenching a bottle of muggle tequila in her right hand.

She'd needed to go.

Away.

And she'd had nowhere else to go but to the crappy flat she'd been renting since they'd put the cottage to sale.

The muggle 24/7 had been a needed stop.

What Ron had said, hurt.

The look in Draco's eyes, the frown on Astoria's face, the foreign clench of Blaise's jaw, she couldn't stand.

They all knew now.

All of it.

And it felt like being naked in front of them.

It felt raw, harsh, painful to see the shock, concern, worry, pity perhaps, on their faces.

She didn't care for pity.

She didn't want comfort.

She didn't need their feelings.

She had enough of her own. They were currently threatening to crush her.

 _You don't have a heart!_

She did.

Didn't she?

 _You have a cold heart miss Granger, a cruel cold heart. I doubt you could ever feel love. I doubt you ever felt anything for that poor man you abused and broke to the point of being insane._

Was that how people saw her?

Cold, vindictive, manipulative.

Was that the image she gave to people? How was it that Ron could see her like that too?

He was supposed to know her.

He was not in his right mind.

Harry had tried to warn her and she'd ignored him but it was undeniable now.

Even Skeeter had seen it.

Damn. How blind had she been?

Ron was broken.

He was delusional to the point where it needed help. It was no longer some kind of Gryffindor hope that made him keep trying. She wondered if it had ever been.

He was broken.

He'd broken and she hadn't even realised.

Well, she'd been in so much pain that there hadn't been anything she'd really noticed anyway. The only person she had wanted to talk to had ignored her. Harry had even believed whatever Ron had told him.

Harry believed her to be cold-hearted as well, didn't he?

How could he ever believe that? When she'd always been there for him!

Always giving advice, always there to listen.

Right.

Always the pragmatic one, with the logical advice, the book definitions known by heart.

Cold.

She'd always been pragmatic and everything she'd ever done had always been thoroughly thought through.

Until she'd lost a baby.

Hell had broken loose after that.

Her pragmatism had been buried under waves of feelings she'd had no idea how to process because they were not logical.

And the friend she'd needed the most, for he was running on feelings, hadn't been there then. He hadn't seen.

How much pain was someone supposed to feel for a foetus anyway? Not bigger than an ant, not developed enough to be viable, not big enough for her to even feel.

Not even fully nested in her belly.

Because it couldn't.

How much pain for a microscopic bit of mingled cells?

She would have been remotely fine if it had only happened once though.

Trouble was, it hadn't.

She'd changed then, she was still very much her pragmatic and logical self, yes, but sometimes her feelings took the upper hand now.

Sometimes, she couldn't help but reassess every situation from an emotional point of view.

Filling the divorce papers had been an inward debate she'd tried to assess with the same calm and logic she used at work but had failed miserably. Hence why she'd postponed it for almost a year before being able to sign them.

The thought hit her then.

Ron still believed her to be that person whose reason always prevailed as well. Whose feelings were deeply buried under a tall mountain of knowledge, logic, reason or pragmatism.

He had never seen her grief, never seen her pain, and she realised just then, that his behaviour, his denial and his pushing of her to keep going, were more or less her own fault.

She'd tried to spare his feelings, she'd agreed to have children in the sole purpose of keeping him happy, she'd denied herself almost everything, including her impossible schedule that she'd had to rearrange, so that he'd get the happy family he wanted, she'd swallowed back her tears when she'd seen the pain in his eyes the first time, she'd kept trying because it'd been what he wanted, she'd tamed the news when Bradley had discovered her predicament.

Why?

Because she'd loved him with all her heart. Because they'd all been too young, lost and traumatised from fighting in a war for most of their lives and she'd decided she cared more for his feelings, than her own complicated and irrational ones.

She rubbed her face with her left hand before opening the kitchen door, the wrapped bottle still firmly held in her right.

What a _stupid_ thing to do.

So much for the brightest witch of her age.

It was no wonder he hadn't believed her.

He'd seen none of her sacrifices.

All those sacrifices were the reason Ron still saw her as the self-righteous teenage girl she'd been during the war.

He'd neither seen her pain, nor the way she'd changed, because she'd hid it from him in order to spare him, and she hadn't seen him lose his shit because she'd been blinded. By pain, grief, and misplaced selflessness.

As she sat at her kitchen table, unwrapping the bottle from its paper, and taking care of uncorking it slowly, she let go of a deep shattering breath.

Grief should have been enough of a burden.

Guilt was coming along now.

Whether it was rational or not to feel this way was no longer relevant.

She'd learnt the hard way that trying to logic yourself out of feelings was an impossible task.

A painful one too.

She didn't need more pain.

She poured herself a glass and took a tentative sip. It was close in taste to detergent, but after a few glasses, the acrid taste faded and was replaced only with drunkenness. The type of drunkenness she hadn't wished for in a while.

Well, the last time had been after seeing Ron as well, at least that wasn't about to change.

Maybe she'd even make a mess of her kitchen floor.

She'd have to clean it herself this time.

No Aberforth to save the day.

Or the carpet.

* * *

Draco had watched the exchange rooted to the spot in burning ire. He'd watched this man, a man he'd always despised for the wrong reasons, as he'd accused, insulted and screamed at Hermione.

Truth was Draco had hated the bastard more out of principle at the beginning. Then, it had morphed into something he'd called hate but had truly been _envy_. Not that anyone would ever know but he'd envied the wanker for his bravery, for the way he'd always stuck to his beliefs, the way he'd fought against what he thought was wrong, this man, part of the sacred twenty-eight too, his complete opposite, who had always made the right choices.

So, Draco had watched, his fists clenching and loosening every second, his jaw trembling and tightening until he could feel each and every one of his teeth hurt, up until the rotter had said the one-sentence too much.

 _You don't have a heart._

Draco only realised why he'd lost it at those words and not before, once his breathing had calmed and he was laying on his back on top of his covers.

He'd lost it because Hermione had suffered through three miscarriages. _Three_. Because his own aunt, that twisted mad woman, had cursed her, right under his cowardly nose, until she couldn't conceive. Because he'd done nothing.

And that man, that man he'd once envied, had just then given Draco a good enough reason to be hated. After everything she'd been through, after all the suffering Draco and his family were responsible for, she'd forgiven him. She'd forgiven him and helped him for the sole reason that she could. That she was kind. That she was selfless. That she had the biggest heart he'd ever encountered.

And that man, that horrid piece of shit had the guts to accuse her, blame her for her miseries, make all his own her fault. He had the guts to say she had no heart! He'd deserved it.

As if to confirm his thoughts, Draco punched the pillow flat and put his head back on it.

Weasley of all people should have known how hurt she was, he who had suffered the same thing and hadn't coped. He hadn't grieved. _He_ was the coward. Too afraid to face his grief, accusing the one person that had suffered more.

She'd been tortured for Salazar's sake!

What a disgusting piece of cowardly shite that wanker was.

One thing they had in common.

Another punch in the pillow didn't help ease Draco's nerves.

Still, the guts that rotter had.

He'd deserved that right punch. And more.

She'd seemed to think otherwise.

She'd taken their side though - and quite vehemently - but only to leave right after making sure someone would still check on the rotter.

She'd gone.

Why?

 _I DON'T NEED PITY OR PUPPY FUCKING EYES!_

Right.

She'd gone because she hadn't wanted them to know. She'd feared their reaction. Or didn't care for it. It was more likely to be the latter.

He'd known though even if he hadn't been supposed to. The look on her face the day she'd explained his oath. Right, she'd looked mortified to realise he'd added one and one.

Now? She'd looked hollow again.

Shite, would she go back to drink herself to oblivion? What was she doing now?

Stop.

Like she'd want him to check on her. Like he'd check on her couldn't just come knocking at her door now, could he? What was wrong with him?

It was the middle of the night.

He'd punched her ex-husband and his family was the reason Weasley was ex-husband apparently.

She probably wanted to see anyone but him right then.

Why had she even helped him?

She should hate his guts!

 _I'm not unforgiving._

True.

But the worst was that it didn't only apply to Draco or Blaise.

It applied to the piece of shit he should have broken the skull of as well.

She'd made sure he would be taken care of!

She would forgive him eventually, wouldn't she?

 _I'm not unforgiving._

FUCK!

After what he'd said to her the bastard didn't deserve a thought from her!

She clearly disagreed.

Couldn't her selflessness have some limits though? Like when it came to her own frigging sanity and well-being?

Well, no, it was the point of selflessness, right?

Fucking Gryffindor shite.

If it weren't for it though, she wouldn't have helped him either, would she?

She wouldn't have stood for them in her patronus or healed that stupid wanker's nose to erase any proof of his punching either.

STILL! She'd made sure he'd go to Mungo's!

The anger Draco felt seemed just as irrational as it seemed justified.

It was so confusing it only angered him more.

Punching his pillow, again, did nothing to help.

That fucking Weasley scum! Was there anything he didn't piss on?

* * *

She watched the picture in her hands, only then realising she'd accioed her beaded bag.

Both Harry and Ron had their arms flanked around her shoulders. Her hair was tangled around them. Harry's own mane was poking in every direction. Ron's soft strands were waving on his forehead.

Hagrid's hut looked gigantic around them.

Fang's tail was waving at the bottom of the picture.

They were smiling.

It felt like an eternity ago.

When was the last time the three of them had laughed together?

She couldn't even remember.

The picture had been taken on the reopening day of Hogwarts, when the after-war joy and excitement had been at its apex. They'd all been partying at night, helping rebuild the castle during the day, answering interviews like little celebrities, signing autographs in the streets.

They'd been in that post running-away-from-death state.

Euphoric.

In love.

So much had changed, not so long after that picture.

They'd all returned to reality, the economy slowly falling apart, the Ministry in shambles, orphanages overflowing, prisons all the same, money coming short from all the celebrating.

They'd had to take a job, exempt from exams or not.

So, they had.

There had been so much to do that during the next year they'd hardly seen each other, other than at the Burrow when Molly would threaten the whole of them.

Harry and she had been the busiest of them all.

So many Bills had been passed in the following years that her personal life had felt like a futile matter.

To anyone else but Ron and herself.

Hence why even the wedding had been rushed.

All had broken apart shortly after that but only in the private space of their little cottage, there'd been so much to do on the outside and so much public trust to keep that it hadn't been an option to spill their personal little issues for the world to see.

They'd swallowed it back until it had been too much for Hermione to take.

Until she'd swallowed so much back since she'd been eleven that it had all burst out of her system, a red flag, telling her it was time to frigging _feel_.

Harry and Ron hadn't been exempt to the changes either.

Harry had become this security obsessed man, constantly working and proposing Bills to her department, constantly arguing with the Wizengamot.

Ron … Well, two warnings, Harry had said. Violence, she guessed, and drinking. Incoherence, denial. Ron had broken, in the silence of his own mind, without anyone realising until a few weeks ago.

She had broken as well, but she'd been better.

She'd felt better, even Kingsley had seen! Getting away from it all, divorcing Ron had been the right thing to do!

For her though.

But then, they'd all changed so much anyway that if it hadn't been for the miscarriages, they would have broken up over something else and she knew it.  
She would have preferred it had.

If only she'd listened to Mrs Zabini at the time … But she hadn't.

Still, she'd felt better. Felt being the key word.

She'd let herself feel and her feelings had told her to let go. To spare herself for once.

She had. With a great deal of trouble, but she had.

And then she'd started feeling better.

Since … well, since breaking Draco's oath probably. No, even before.

Since she'd decided to break it. Right.

She'd felt that spark of determination overtake her once again, her feelings of revolt and anger pushing her forward.

It had made her feel alive again. It was what she was born for after all. Fight injustice.

She just had never fought it on her own behalf until the divorce.

Helping Draco had been different though, it had strangely _felt_ personal. Without those feelings she didn't know if she'd have insisted he accepted her help. She'd certainly have offered, but not insisted.

She didn't regret it, oh no, and not only because doing it had made her feel like herself again. Hell, threatening Nott and Parkinson - as frightening as the whole experience had been - had been the most thrilling and exhilarating thing she'd done in years.

But because ... Draco.

She'd been so happy for him when they'd finally broken the oath.

She couldn't really explain it, not even to herself, but it felt right. And she kind of followed her feelings a bit more those days.

Being a part of Draco's life, of their lives, felt right.

She wondered if without them, she'd have stayed in the slumber state she'd been in after the divorce.

Probably.

The three of them, Astoria, Blaise and Draco, had played such a significant part in her feeling better.

There was no doubt.

Until that night. Until Ron. Again.

They'd had a nice evening until he'd come pissing all over it!

Now she was dead drunk and alone, swimming in self-pity and misery. All over again!

They'd had a good evening!

They'd laughed!

She'd been talking to Draco as if no incident had happened!

Draco.

Shit _Draco_.

Draco had punched Ron.

Merlin Draco! He'd hurt himself and she hadn't even cared enough to check on him!

She'd been worried he'd hurt Ron severely, and she'd only thought of the consequences of that.

She'd had few thoughts. Ron, unconscious. Draco, Azkaban. Diagnosis spell. Quick.

She hadn't even checked on Draco!

She hadn't even said a word to him!

Merlin's blasted socks!

Should she go to Blaise's to do so now? Or apologise?

A big fat and manly snort made its way out of her throat, she was way too drunk for that now.

It was the middle of the night.

Damn it!

What an utter poor excuse for a friend she was!

She pushed the picture away from her in frustration. On second thought, she swept the whole bag on the floor as well. There was nothing pleasant in there.

She rubbed her face in her hands and made to pour herself another drink.

Only one thing had escaped her frustrated hand and was left on the table.

 _Thank you,_

 _for everything._

 _Draco._

Draco's note.

The only thing in that bag that didn't belong to the past.

The only thing that didn't make her want to cry.

It had made her smile. A very private smile.

A proud one.

A content one.

Maybe it should be the only thing in there.

The rest was just past and pain.

Nothing in there made her smile any more.

Thinking of Harry and Ron definitely didn't make her smile any longer.

 _H_ e made her smile.

With his ridiculous witty humour and his very new smirk-grin.

His open shirt on Sunday morning hadn't made her smile though.

Wrong train of thoughts.

Still, he was very much the present.

Harry and Ron weren't any more.

She'd thought some things were made to last for life.

Well, she hadn't taken into account the tremendous amount of trauma they'd been subjects to. There were certain things that changed you with no way back.

They'd all changed so much it was painful to realise that miscarriage or not, things would have eventually gone bad anyway.

That was definitely an unpleasant thought.

Yep, no smile there.

Tears only.

And tequila it seemed.

Her thoughts were shorter.

She was really drunk.

Draco's handwriting was definitely perfect.

If strangely doubled.

Still, it was pretty.

Just like him.

 _Pretty prat._

Merlin, she was very drunk.

* * *

The pillow wasn't right under his head. Just like what he'd seen that evening.

Just knowing what she'd been put through made Draco want to kill. Weasley to be precise. The way her face had lost all colour, the way her eyes had filled with tears, even if he'd actually tried to control it, Draco knew he wouldn't have been able to.

Wait.

He hadn't been able to control himself.

When had he become such a different person?

He'd never, ever, been impulsive. He'd been raised to calculate every move, to follow etiquette to the hair, to watch, see, hear everything.

Control.

His mother had taught him how to control his face at five.

He wasn't supposed to cry, wasn't supposed to raise his voice, had to stand and sit straight, talk evenly, be polite.

And, in public at least, he'd always, always respected his education.

He had remained calm at the Leaky when Potter had threatened Blaise!

He wasn't that person any more, was he?

It seemed as though he wasn't someone who stood by any more.

He'd punched Weasley. When he'd been dreaming to do so for decades but had never because back then it would have been lowering himself and after the war, it would have meant trouble.

It still meant trouble.

He'd done it anyway.

He'd dreamt of punching the Carrows back in seventh when they'd punished Crabbe under his nose too but he'd done nothing.

He'd done nothing when Hermione had been tortured either.

He'd changed apparently.

And it was fairly recent.

Draco turned on his side as he reflected on that.

It had started the day Potter had made Hermione cry.

It had continued with the decision to trust someone else with the oath. Her.

Then he'd stood up to his mother.

Wait! No, Pansy!

Now, Weasley.

Shit, it was because of her, wasn't it?

But then, her face.

Her eyes.

The tears and horrifying grief and pain even in her posture.

Draco growled and threw the pillow at the foot of the bed.

He never wanted to see that face again.

Never, ever again.

He wouldn't stand by any more. He'd make sure, he never saw that face again.

He'd been a coward.

He would never, ever be again.

That would never repay what he'd done, or hadn't, but it was better than nothing.

She should hate him. As much as he hated himself for who he'd once been.

Draco didn't deserve her friendship.

He kept tossing around the bed as her words echoed in his head.

 _Whatever you did anyway, it's well in the past._

 _I'm really happy for you. It must have been really hard to be stuck with all this since the war. Like if it'd never stopped …_

 _Don't talk to him like that!_

 _And I forgave him it's in the past!_

Right, the past.

And what was she doing now?

Was she back to that hollow looking Granger he'd seen at commemoration?

Was she really back to drink herself to death like last time that wanker had talked to her?

Should he check on her?

He wanted to. He wanted to make sure she'd never look like that again.

He should check on her.

No, obviously he was the last person she wanted to see now, whether she'd forgiven him or not.

Even Astoria had left her alone.

She'd gone, when she could have stayed with them.

Draco would never sleep.

She hadn't needed them.

She hadn't wanted to be with them.

After all, her deepest secret had just been yelled out and thrown in her face.

She probably wanted to be left alone.

Draco sat on the bed, he wouldn't sleep anyway.

He stood, and went in the kitchen, to try and calm down.

It didn't help.

He didn't know what to do. Should he look for her address on her letters?

What would he do with it anyway eh?

 _Hi Hermione, thought you were probably trying to drown yourself in liquor. Mind if I sit and watch?_

 _It'd be just like old times!_

Way to go.

She'd gone, she didn't want them around.

No, she didn't want _him_ around.

He must have made a noise because he heard the click of Blaise's door. He'd started pacing around the kitchen isle without noticing. Astoria, wrapped up in Blaise's robe joined him.

"Couldn't sleep?" She whispered.

"No."

"Sit, I'll brew you a cuppa." She smiled faintly, and Draco obliged. At least it was something to do. Astoria started around the kitchen, and Draco watched her bustle with the kettle, tea bags and mugs. She didn't ask how he took it, but then he didn't, and Draco observed her meticulously dose sugar, milk and something he didn't get a chance to see.

Once she was done she took both steaming cups with her, put one in front of him and sat next to him, nursing the other. She gave him a small smile he answered with a mumbled "Thanks."

Her eyes widened as he lifted the cup to his lips.

"Can I?" She asked, showing his right hand.

Draco shrugged and she carefully took his hand in hers, palm down. She didn't bother to ask and took his wand. Then, she lightly pressed the tip of it to his knuckles.

He wasn't even mad. Performing healing magic with a foreign wand was so impressive he couldn't. Plus, he hadn't even realised how swollen his hand was. It hadn't hurt.

Another witch he'd landed his wand to without second thoughts. In one evening.

"Thanks." He said again as she released his hand. She sighed then and watched him for a few seconds. Draco started feeling scrutinised and brought the cup to his mouth once more. Tea had never been his favourite beverage, coffee surpassing from far the insipid infused herby water, but then … Cinnamon. It was cinnamon she'd put in it. Between that and the stew, Blaise had gotten himself quite a number Draco guessed. He would never have suspected a Greengrass could cook, neither would ever bother to do anything involving waiting for the others.

He had a sudden flash of the very precious Daphne Greengrass in an apron then and almost laughed at the ludicrous picture.

"What?" Astoria frowned.

"Err … A Greengrass brewing tea … Making stew?" He frowned.

"I always forget you were in Daphne's year." She smirked then. "She'd choke seeing me."

"No doubt." He acquiesced. "Where did you learn?" He asked, conversation seemed a good distraction.

"Why with the elves of course."

"Oh." He startled. _Of course?_

"Right, you're a Malfoy." She shook her head.

"And?"

"So high standards." She chuckled. "But so nice when you want to be." She sighed, pinching his cheek lightly.

"My Greengrass." He easily smirked. "If you're tired of Blaise, his flat isn't the place to hit on me."

She chuckled: "See? Nice." Draco snorted but he had to admit that rare were the persons he bothered to try to make laugh. Astoria was among them now. "Just like when Hermione's around." She added and the unexpected levity he'd just felt was suddenly swept away from him.

"I'll check on her in the morning." She reassured. "She'll be fine, you know?"

"If you say so." He answered, not knowing whether she was right or more trying to convince herself.

"She will. I'll make sure of it." She nodded for herself, turning her tea bag around in her mug. Her confident gaze was something he didn't doubt. She didn't seem worried. Why wasn't she worried?

No, why was he worried?

She'd be fine.

She didn't need his worry. She didn't need him either. She'd made it clear by going away.

There was a moment's pause then, during which Draco returned to his mug. She broke the silence:

"What's really bothering you Draco?"

Right, what was really bothering him?

The answer he hadn't even formulated for himself was cut by an owl, tapping at the window. Who the hell wrote so late?

Astoria stood hurriedly though, as if she knew, and grabbed the letter.

"Shit." She cursed after briefly reading it.

"What?"

"There was a witness." She fidgeted with the corner of the parchment. "They're going to publish it in the morning."

"A witness? But … no one was there!"

"I guess she was right about disillusionment charms after all or … Oh! That bitch! Of course!"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Skeeter! I need to go check something." She hurried towards the door. "Tell Blaise I'll keep you posted in the morning." She added above her shoulder as she passed the threshold.

"Wait you're in your robe! Err …" She'd already disapparated away.

* * *

 **A/N:** Next chapter tomorrow, because you deserve it and this one makes me kinda sad (I promise the next is way more fun).

Also because it's ready and you've waited enough.

Love, Lucie.


	43. Chapter 43

Saturday, June 28th, 2003.

Hermione stumbled to the door, growling incoherent insults at the person who had dared knock at - or more molest - her front door that morning. Even her hair hurt. She'd woken up to the banging sound of someone's fist punching the bloody door, still sitting in her kitchen, her face sticking to the liquor-coated table.

Whoever it was, was not welcome.

She snapped the door open abruptly, only maintaining herself standing by grasping furiously the doorpost:

"WHAT?" She barked at the intruder, the force it required to so do making her sway dangerously.  
Muggle tequila had just become forbidden.

"Damn you're in a state!" Was the answer Astoria gave her, her whole face wrinkling in distaste. She looked like she'd smelt a bottle of rotten milk.

Hermione tried to bang to door close to her face but the witch was quicker, or just sober. Judging by the dryness in Hermione's mouth, it was certainly the latter.

"I don't think so." She drawled, her left hand firmly holding the door open. "Draco didn't sleep all night and I wont bear with Blaise's whining if I tell him I didn't try."

Hermione heard all the words, but was unable to attach them all together.

"What?"

Astoria sighed and took advantage of Hermione's sudden confusion to push her way in.

"I have hungover remedy and you're going to take a bath, you reek." She ordered, grabbing the drunken pile of rubbish she was visiting and pulling her towards the bathroom door as if she knew the place.

She drew her a bath with a sweep of her wand and left Hermione to undress with a warning glare. Hermione was too hungover to argue and after struggling for five minutes to unbutton her robes from the previous day, she caught sight of the tiny purple vial Stori had left on the sink.

The headache, dryness in her mouth, incoming and rather threatening nausea, and the hair pain, didn't leave place for stubbornness and Hermione shot it all at once. Bottoms up.  
She was in the warm water before it started taking effect.

After a moment, Astoria opened the door quietly, levitating two cups of tea in front of her. Hermione didn't even find it in her to protest. There were bubbles. She'd already seen her in her panties anyway.

Astoria transfigured a towel into a small stool, and sat, playing with the bubbles with a finger. She didn't ask. She'd promised she wouldn't.

Hermione started talking anyway.

* * *

Draco was blankly and tiredly watching his cup of coffee cooling down when Blaise decided to mention the hippogryph in the room that morning.

The atmosphere had been tense and quiet since Blaise had found a sleepless Draco pacing around the kitchen after Astoria had left.

"Stori's there you know." He said, lifting his gaze from his own coffee.

"I know." Was all Draco found to say. The fact that Blaise looked worried enough not to joke or be annoying was disturbing. They'd been waiting for hours to hear from Astoria, and atop the Hermione ordeal going on in his head, Draco found the prospect of having his punching Weasley in the news nerve-wrecking.  
There was nothing he could do himself though, except waiting for Astoria to return. As horrid as it was.

"I called her a cripple, didn't I?" Blaise blurted suddenly, making Draco's cup shake in his hand.

Well, he had.

"Yes."

"I didn't know." Blaise grimaced.

"Right."

"It's kind of weird anyway." Blaise frowned after a moment. "I guess it's an oddity from being muggle-born because …"

"She's been cursed in the stomach, you moron." Draco cut, not feeling like discussing this _at all_. Unwillingly replaying the scene in his head had been enough.

"I know, but ..."

"My aunt crucio'd her …" He roared.

"Yes." Blaise cut, lifting a hand. "But magical beings have a …"

Both men startled out of their incoming argument when something silvery and fast swept the kitchen air around them. When it settled, Draco recognised a Patronus charm. This one was … magnificent. A black swan, in all its grace.

Very different from the dull otter they'd seen the night before.

It stopped a moment, as if to be admired and then spoke Astoria's voice:

"She's fine, hungover but fine. I'll stay with her today though. I met Potter at the Prophet and the article is cancelled. I'll tell you everything later. See you tomorrow. Love you."

Draco's relief was quite something, until he realised Hermione had indeed drunk herself to death the previous night. Then, he looked at Blaise and the feelings were pushed aside altogether.

The lad was staring in awe at the patronus, his mouth agape, his eyes shining. It only lasted a blessed second of silence before he exclaimed:

"Salazar … I give up. Would you be my best man?"

Draco had just the time to feel irritated, that the feeling was, again, crushed with something else. Dread.

An owl he recognised started tapping the window.

"Draco?"

"That's my mother's owl."

"Shit." Blaise winced and opened the window for him, forgetting about his proposal epiphany.

* * *

"I couldn't speak, not with Ginny when she's been pregnant instantly and ... I hoped Harry would but he just sent her and ..."

Astoria hummed sympathetically, she seemed to be thinking.

"What about your parents?" She asked after a moment.

"They don't know." Hermione answered. "They stayed in Australia when their memories were restored. I think they want nothing to do with magic ever again. If I tell them they'll never have grandchildren because of magical torture …"

"Err, Right." There was a pause, and then Astoria frowned: "So, you never spoke about it?" Hermione suspected she knew that answer already. Was there anything that witch didn't anyway?

"Only once, with Mrs Zabini." She confessed and Astoria nodded.

"Blaise was right then." She said. Hermione could ad perceptive to the impressively long list of Blaise's traits of character. "Were you close?"

"No, not really, she guessed it actually."

"Blaise told me last night that she's had miscarriages of her own." Astoria nodded, lowering her eyes to her untouched cup of tea.

"Yes. We only talked about it once anyway … " Hermione explained. "You know, beside her, the only one who knew is Draco. He overheard me with Harry …" Astoria nodded again, she'd known that too of course. "He said he was sorry but I ..." Hermione swallowed hard, remembering Draco's face pale in her office. "It's too raw."

"He never told us."

"I know."

"He punched Weasley." Astoria reminded.

Hermione huffed, more out of being disconcerted than anything else. She hadn't quite processed that yet.

"He did." She eventually sighed.

"He's been worried." Astoria frowned, fiddling with the handle of her teacup. "Didn't sleep all night actually."

"Wh …" Hermione started and suddenly it clicked. "Bellatrix ..."

"It's not his fault." Stori cut rather sternly, her eyes challenging, as if daring Hermione to say anything else. Like she would have!

"No," Hermione pushed, seeing the small amusement in Astoria's eyes. "It's not," She continued, ignoring the coming smirk on the witch's face. "And there's nothing he could have done. No one could have predicted that bitch would be so twisted as to ..."

"You think she did it on purpose?" Astoria cut, horror slowly striking her face, gone was the smirk.

"Three times she crucio'd me in the stomach ..." Hermione snorted. "She was mad but not stupid."

"And you are muggle-born." Astoria breathed, lowering her eyes to her cold tea again.

"Yes." Hermione nodded, that twisted bitch … Astoria snapped her head up again, frowning:

"And yet you fought so that the families would ..."

"Yes. Because it was the right thing to do." The vehement tint in her voice reminded Hermione that yes, her fire was still there. "I've never blamed Draco for any of this." She added. "I'm certain he knows it. Ron and Harry they ... They weren't there. They blame him but he was terrorised. I was as well. Gryffindor or not I was scared to death. I would have told her anything she wanted. I didn't lie to her."

"And it still haunts you?"

"No, not as much. Rarely." She shrugged, as though it would undermine the creeping feelings she had sometimes, less and less often though. It was irrevocable after all. There was nothing to be done about it. Whether Ron believed it or not. "I've come to terms with it Stori. I've grieved and I've been trying to move on. What I had trouble getting over was how it turned out with Harry and Ron … I never thought I'd lose them."

"Well their loss." Astoria shrugged, although the look in her eyes showed slight anger. "And I don't want to rub salt in the wound or anything but … It's not like they tried to make things better. I mean, coming to insult you was obviously not a peace offering. Maybe Potter tried." She added as Hermione opened her mouth. "And he could have done better - but Weasley was definitely not there to play nice yesterday. Drunk or not."

Hermione watched the bubbles as she answered, her voice small.

"Err … I …" Hermione rubbed her face in her hands and confessed through her fingers: "I feel like a lot of this is my fault you know."

"Oh my … you can't be serious?" Disbelief wasn't so pretty on Astoria's face.

"I tried to spare him." Hermione hurried to explain. "It killed me inside and I never showed it to him. It's no wonder he thinks I've got no heart."

"What the … You're insufferable." Astoria pestered.

"What?"

"You care so fucking much that you …" She paused, looking about as frustrated as a Nott had looked when Hermione had stolen his wand. "It's … He is a moron. Broken or not. NO. Listen." She hissed and Hermione closed her protesting mouth. The fact that Astoria was probably the only person in the world able to do that didn't even surprise her. "He's known you for ever," Astoria continued. "And even I, who had never talked to you before working at the Ministry, knew you were the kind to climb mountains for the helpless. Hermione, he's broken, AND a selfish moron. You can't take his words seriously. Everybody, and I mean _everybody_ , knows you care. About everything. You were the one working for the death-eater's families' rehabilitation. Despite being a muggle-born! If that's not having a heart then what is? He's sick. He hasn't grieved and is blaming you instead. You can't blame yourself for that."

Hermione didn't answer, she made sense, her feelings of guilt did as well though.

"Come on now, you told Potter, it's all you could do."

"Right." It was all she was willing to do anyway.

"You're not going to lock yourself in your office again, are you?" Astoria asked, her eyebrows practically joining in the middle.

"How …"

"Because I rather like your company and I'd be damned before I spent my days with Tracey tight-arse." The smirk had the benefit to make Hermione outline a smile.

"Right."

"Good. You don't need to any more anyway. You've got us, now." Stori said, and cocked her head to a side. "I think we can agree that it's a vast improvement."

Hermione looked at Stori's small but warm smile then.

She shook her head but couldn't help but smile back.

"Thank you."

Astoria winked, and frowned at the cooling water she'd been poking her fingers in. She grabbed her wand and warmed it up with a charm.

Hermione seemed to only really register then that she was having tea, naked in her bathtub, with Astoria Greengrass sitting on a stool next to her.

That witch had some guts.

Hermione couldn't remember anyone ever forcing their way in with her this way before. No one had ever dared kick her barriers away to check on her.

Not ever.

No one had ever managed to shut her up like that either.

An hour with the witch and the incoherent memory-laced depressive slope she'd stumbled in the previous night was gone. She even felt kind of stupid now.

Astoria sat back on her transfigured stool as if nothing, and Hermione realised how much that friendship was precious.

 _Draco didn't sleep all night and I won't bear with Blaise's whining if I tell him I didn't try._

Well, those friendships. Both men had thrown themselves at Ron after all, Draco being the only one to succeed was only a detail. She'd herself given death threats away on Draco's behalf. They weren't going to quibble over tiny details.

The intensity and speed with which they'd become friends was something Hermione had more trouble to grasp.

Blaise had barged his way in her life without so much as asking her opinion and Astoria was currently invading her privacy.

Draco … Well, that was a different matter. He'd insinuated his way in, probably as oblivious to it as she'd been. It had just happened.

They were a real and constant part of her life now. No doubt.

Especially not after _that_ punch.

Now that it came back in mind, Hermione couldn't help but think it'd been quite the thing. Draco Malfoy, all lean and tall lines, punching Ronald thickset and not as tall Weasley in the face. Drunk or not Hermione doubted Ron would have remained standing up. He probably wouldn't have been knocked out if he'd been in full possession of his mental capacities, but he'd certainly have ended up sitting back on his arse.

The thought made her smile.

Draco had looked so … She didn't know exactly what word was appropriate for that.

Angry or enraged, that was certain, but also … virile?

 _Merlin_. What was wrong with her?  
She was naked in her bathtub AND in the presence of Astoria!

"Okay, out of the bath now. I've got things to tell you and I'd rather you not be naked."

Hermione could only glare at being given orders. Even if said orders had the benefits to snap her out of her thoughts. It was time to dry herself anyway, her finger tips were all wrinkly, and she'd definitely puked out enough of her feelings for a lifetime.  
It was time to move.

She turned around to grab herself a towel – no need for Astoria to see more than she already had – but before she could go out of the bathtub, a weight literally lifted off her shoulders and the snicker at her back told her it had nothing to do with emotional liberation.  
"I've always wanted to do that."

Astoria's smirk was rewarded with Hermione splashing water all over the witch's lap.

* * *

 _Son,_

 _I have taken the liberty to search your father's office yesterday. The hidden bookcase behind the liquor cabinet was full of old records. I destroyed all of them and demand you do the same with the one currently in your company office._

 _Although I can't state that I forgive you, I found evidences that the report you handed me Monday was truthful. I had no knowledge of such practises, your father never discussed his work with me.  
Whatever his flaws though, he was your father, and he loved you, in his own way. I do not want his name sullied after death._

 _I do not want our name sullied either, neither with the possibility of those reports being seen, nor with associations your father would have condemned you for._

 _My offer for the company stands as ten thousand Galleons and will be final._

 _Mother._

Draco put the letter down feeling empty. He didn't even react when Blaise took it from him to read it too.

After a minute of quiet but nasty grumble under his breath, he frowned, showing the last few sentences:

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I told her Hermione helped me." Draco answered.

"Err … Are you …" He grimaced.

"I don't care what she wants or not." Draco snapped.

"Fair enough." Blaise nodded and paused. Then, he asked warily: "Are you going to sell her the company?"

"Yes."

Blaise nodded again, and didn't argue. Whatever her beliefs, she was his mother. Whatever grudge she held against him, recognising she didn't know - even though she couldn't possibly have been completely clueless - was her way to apologise. Draco knew it, he also knew she'd never say it explicitly.  
She'd surrendered to making an offer too, which meant that somehow, she understood why he'd done what he had.  
What she couldn't forgive was what he'd told his father on his death bed.

She expected apologies, and some sort of poised begging for forgiveness.

What she couldn't accept, was Hermione's involvement.

She expected her out of her son's life after that letter.

Well, his mother had a wide range of expectations that Draco had more or less always failed to meet.

He'd long ago stopped trying.

He'd done what he'd done, nothing could change it, and he wasn't going to apologise for it, neither beg. Draco _never_ begged.

He certainly wasn't about to chase away the woman that had actually saved his arse from this monstrous oath destiny either, just because his mother lived in another time.

He'd made enough mistakes for a few lifetimes and he wasn't about to make this one.

She, on the other hand, could very much decide that he wasn't worth her time after all.

Draco had had more time to think than he'd ever wished for in his insomnia, and on intense and nerve-wrecking reflection, what was really bothering him was not only Weasley - but then, when had Weasley not bothered him? - neither Hermione's issue. He'd known about that.

He could have guessed Bellatrix' responsibility.

It wasn't his fault and he knew that Hermione didn't hold him responsible.

The nagging guilt was there either way, of course, kid or not he'd stood by and done strictly nothing - but something else was also bothering him.

She hadn't said a word to them.  
Him. Who was he kidding? He was bothered because she hadn't said a word to him, and had gone like a thief right after making sure someone would check on Weasley.

He could understand her wish to be alone, even though in difficulty he'd always sought Blaise's company and the times he'd been mad at him had been atrociously lonely.

He could understand.

It still hurt.

It had taken a great deal of insomnia and internal incoherent debate to confess so to himself.

It hurt.

He'd - although a tad violently - defended her. Again.

And she'd gone after checking on Weasley.  
Not on him.

She'd been more worried about Weasley's sanity than by Draco's swollen hand.  
That much was certain.

Weasley was a right bastard.

Broken or not.

He'd made her cry at school! He'd made her miserable since childhood and yet she just …

What a hypocrite he was.

He may never have made her cry as she'd said, but he'd bullied her, insulted her, watched her be tortured without lifting a finger.

She'd forgiven him despite all this.

She'd forgive Weasley as well.

And then what?

Would she go back to her trio?

No, that wasn't quite the question, was it?

The question was more, would she forget all about them?

Still not quite there.

Salazar … why was it this hard? Nobody heard his thoughts. He'd seen what denial did to people enough the previous night and he'd rather not go nutters over this.

He could be truthful with himself.

The question was: would she just forget all about _him_?

The answer: perhaps.

And it was what was truly nagging him since the night before.

After all they'd been enemies for a decade and friends for what? A couple of months?

Weasley, however despicably atrocious with her lately, had been her friend for a decade and then her lover, husband.

He won in the balance.

It strangely felt like some sort of sword, hanging above his head, held by a very thin rope. Was it Damocles? The muggle saying?

"Think she'll ever come around?" Blaise asked, cutting his thoughts which Draco found himself voicing without thinking:

"I don't know, the bastard insulted her all night and she still called Potter to take care of him. Maybe she's just going to ..."

Draco stopped himself. Blaise was looking at him with confusion, one of his eyebrows cocked up.

"What?"

"I was talking about your mother, mate."

"Oh." _Shit._

* * *

Hermione made a show of smirking her face off as she walked out of the bathroom, and Astoria was still irritably waving her wand around her thighs.

Bubble soap and Witchety skirts didn't add nicely it seemed.

The smirk quickly receded when she made her way to the kitchen.

Astoria had cleaned the mess up.

Her beaded bag, and its content, was neatly stacked in a corner of the counter. Draco's note was slightly away from it.

Hermione hovered a little at the counter. Astoria stared at her with her most infuriating smirk.

"Would you stop that?" Hermione snapped, she did, but didn't look guilty.

"Okay." She shrugged. "I was just wondering why this wasn't with the rest on the floor."

"Err." Hermione didn't know how to, and didn't want to explain anyway.

"He's been worried." Astoria pointed out, again.

"So you say."

"Didn't sleep all night. I found him pacing around the kitchen, mumbling like a nutjob."

"Maybe he is a nutjob." Hermione shrugged.

"He was worried." Came the stern response.

Hermione didn't answer, she also didn't touch at the things on her counter.

She didn't want to think about all of it again.

She'd had enough with the previous night.

"Let's go out." Astoria offered.

"Yes, I need air."

"Hog's Head?" Well, it wasn't like they had anywhere else where they'd be left in peace. "If Aberforth isn't too pissed." Astoria added as an after thought. Right.

"He might never want any of us in there again." Hermione grimaced.

"Well, he would be in his right. You make scenes and puke everywhere …"

"Funny." Hermione scowled, but she couldn't help the small grateful smile that tugged at her lips. Astoria winked.

* * *

The confusion quickly morphed into a smirk Blaise had trouble to maintain. It kept slipping into a grin.

Draco had the coldest letter a mother could send her son in his hands, and yet, all he was thinking about was Hermione.

They were _finally_ getting somewhere.

"Maybe she's just going to what now?"

Draco blanched, anger or mortification, Blaise didn't know, the lad was already standing up and going away.

"Shit." Blaise heard him mutter and he couldn't help but chuckle as he stood as well to follow him.

He managed to catch the lad before he locked himself in his room.

"What are you running away from?" He asked, managing to put his hand before the door closed and take a step in.

"Your incessant questioning." Draco growled. His face was quite … funny.

"Well, you started talking." Blaise shrugged.

"I didn't mean to." Well, obviously. "Now, fuck off." Draco added, showing the door with a white knuckled finger.

"It's my flat." Blaise smirked, pulling at the chair in front of the desk to sit. "What's wrong with you? I haven't seen you so worked up since last time Gryffindor won the Quidditch cup."

"They cheated." Draco barked, letting his arse fall at the foot of his bed.

"Right. And I didn't take that picture of Weasley puking everywhere."

"That wanker …" Good, they were returning to the subject then. "I should have broken his skull." Draco said, flexing his hand as if replaying the scene in his head.

Well, one thing they both wished they'd done the previous night.

"I think we've been over that." Blaise sighed. "I'm pretty certain a lot of people share our opinion on the matter but let's agree that it's not such a good idea. What with his being famous and all, there'd be an investigation."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"So?" Blaise insisted but got nothing from Draco still.

"The stubbornness is seriously getting old." He tried. "It was fun for the first decade or so but now I'm starting to lose patience."

"If you're not happy with my being silent you can always fuck off the room. Your flat or not." Came the answer.

"I'm just trying to help." For once, it was true.

"You're not helping." Oh but he was.

"What's wrong?" Blaise asked again.

"Ronald fucking Weasley's what's wrong!" Draco barked, which wasn't news.

"What's it to do with what Hermione's going to do?" Blaise asked, cocking his head to a side and starting to see where the lad's full mind had been wandering all night.

"She just …" The pale idiot started, looking at his hands. "She checked on him." He finished in a barely audible confession. He looked quite like a guilty child.

"Yes, and?" Blaise asked, quietly, he didn't want to frighten the for once talking specimen. "What d'you think she'll do now?"

"I … err … Fuck." Draco cut himself, looking up, startled. Blaise knew he'd been about to answer. Of course it couldn't be that simple. A Malfoy, talking about his moods. Ludicrous.

"Stop _questioning_ me."

"Alright." Blaise lifted his hands in surrender. Fake surrender.

"I need a bloody drink." Draco groaned under his hands. Well, that could help, Blaise thought.

"Come on then." He stood and turned to the door. He would indeed require liquor if he wanted Draco to actually recognise that he was _jealous_.

Yes, jealous of the weasel.

As utterly moronic as it was.

That was going to take _loads_ of liquor.

Blaise hoped Aberforth wouldn't kick them out.

Draco only nodded, and they grabbed their wands before disapparating.

They walked all the way to the far end of Hogsmeade, under the blinding heat. Or more stomped angrily for Draco. Blaise was a tad too tired to run though:

"Would you calm down?"

Draco came to an abrupt stop.

"I'm calm."

"Right, and I'm a princess."

Draco rolled his eyes and carefully caught Blaise's pace. Too carefully for it to be natural.

"You can't seriously be so worked up about all this."

"I'm not." Draco lied.

"Look, try your best, I don't need to look at you to know you're lying."

"Sod off."

At that, Blaise decided he could start his little game before they got a drink after all. "Why do you care so much what she'll do?" He asked. "What does it matter to you?"

"It doesn't."

Blaise chose to ignore that big fat lie altogether.

"Why?" He asked again. "Are you _jealous_?" He couldn't help but sneer.

"Fuck you." Draco's outrage didn't look so convincing to Blaise. The lad had actually stopped walking.

Blaise had made a point and he knew it. Draco was considering the jealousy idea.

They'd reached the pub's door though, and Blaise pushed the stubborn in. Firewhiskey would help.

Too bad the girls were both in there when they got in.

* * *

Draco froze. Damn. Her hair, something was off. Astoria had definitely something to do with it. Whenever Hermione had her hair up, it was usually in a huge messy attempt at a bun that failed. Or that ugly braided thing she'd pulled at commemoration to remain unseen. There it was … Combed, sleek. Neat curls framed her face, the rest of her massive strands were tucked in a high curly ponytail. He preferred the usual mess.

Her head snapped up to them and her eyes were red, tired, swollen. She'd cried. A lot. For that bloody wanker.

Astoria turned around and Draco saw the pretty witch grimace. She turned back to Hermione. Draco didn't move.

"We should go." He said to Blaise.

"The polite thing to do is to at least say hullo mate."

"Then we go." Blaise didn't answer and stepped before Draco. He kissed his girlfriend, chastely on the cheek, and to Draco's greatest surprise, bent over the table to peck Hermione's temple, just as Draco finally reached the table too. He didn't say a thing and turned around to go, leaving Draco utterly uncomfortable and Hermione completely baffled.

"You're not giving us a little kiss too Draco? I'm disappointed." Astoria was as irritating as Blaise. But Draco didn't get a chance to snap at her, Hermione chuckled. Her eyes lit a bit. She was watching him, her half-smile contrasting with the remnant red on her cheeks. Either he stayed like that and looked like a fool, either he played her little game.

"Well, I'd expect you to take my hand Milady." He said to Astoria, offering her his palm. She pompously put her hand in his and he pecked the tip of her fingers. Then, he turned to the other witch. He had a second of hesitation but she seemed to be holding back a smile, so he lifted his hand to her too. She put her tiny hand in his palm, and a mocking chuckle escaped her lips. He bent over, and chastely brushed his mouth to the back of her hand, her fingers between his, his eyes resolutely cast on what he was doing.

When he lifted his face he was surprised to see concern in her big brown eyes. She squeezed his hand giving it a quick glance.

The question didn't leave her mouth but it was there, and that alone had the strange effect of pushing aside the hurt he'd been mulling over since the last evening.

She'd just been upset but she cared too.

She'd worried about him. As well.  
So, he winked before letting go of her hand. Albeit reluctantly, but they had an audience, and said audience was smirking her face off at them right then.

"Miladies." He said then with a bit of a bow. Hermione had a little laugh.

"Posh." She said.

"Gentleman." He countered. He had trouble leaving then, because she smiled. Dimples and everything. Astoria had to clear her throat for him to leave.

* * *

"He was staring."

Hermione didn't deny it, it was true. Although she'd been staring too. His eyes. Merlin.

"He likes you."

Hermione startled:

"What?"

"He likes you Mione." Stori said softly.

"No he doesn't."

"He does." She repeated, nodding.

"You're not making any sense."

"I am, don't pretend you don't understand. Draco likes you." She kept assuring. Hermione was starting to believe there'd been some toxic fumes in the bubble soap she'd put in the bath. Or perhaps Aberforth has thought a little revenge was in order?

"He doesn't." She countered, quite stupidly.

"Right and he punched Weasley out of a childhood grudge." She made a point.

No, she didn't! Draco? Liking her?

 _He finds you pretty._ Well, what Blaise said couldn't be trusted, right?

 _Your hair is pretty. I'm not mocking you._

He'd kissed her. Drunk, right, but he'd kissed her. He'd punched Ron.

He'd defended her to Harry, had her warned about the interview, taken her side again facing Skeeter, he had to at least care.

Yes, right, as friends were supposed to.

This was just their stupid cupido game. Draco didn't like her.

 _No because I like you._

As friends.

Astoria chuckled, apparently Hermione's inward mumbling was taking time.

"He likes you."

"Are these all the words you know?" Hermione snapped, voicing her thoughts.

"He likes you." Astoria repeated with an ugly smirk that certainly wouldn't deflate any time soon. Hermione sighed. Loudly.

"Did he even tell you?" She asked, knowing fairly well that the answer would be negative, and hoping it would give some sense back to Astoria.

"I don't think he told himself just yet." The concerned pretty witch answered.

"So you are just speculating." Hermione concluded. "As always."

"I am not. He kissed you, didn't he?" That had Hermione pause. That kiss had been a mistake, right. It didn't mean Draco liked her.

"For half a second."

"He likes you."

"He was drunk and …"

"Don't find excuses Hermione, he likes you. Whether he admits it or not. Have you ever seen him this violent?"

Merlin could she stop having _good_ arguments? Draco _didn't_ like her.

"Look," She roared. "Whatever you're on about you need to …"

"You like him too." Astoria cut and Hermione was too tired to try and change the subject. She was too tired even to lie.

"I have no idea how I feel right now." She sighed truthfully.

"Because of Weasley?" Astoria asked warily, cocking her head to a side.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you still love him?" She asked, her mouth wrinkled in a corner.

"No." Blurted out of Hermione's mouth before she could even think of it. Apparently she knew the answer to that question.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Stori. I'm sure."

"Good." Astoria sighed with very visible, and exaggerated, relief. Hermione could only roll her eyes but the witch wasn't finished it seemed: "Then it means you're ready to see someone else." She smirked.

"I don't …"

"A tall blond and pretty prat who's been worried sick about you since last night perhaps?"

"Stori …"

"You know, the one who punched the one you don't love any more? To defend you?"

"Would you stop?"

"I'm not quite finished no. Blaise was right, this is quite fun."

"Stop." Hermione hissed, making the cup in front of her tremble.

"Alright." Astoria surrendered. Or so Hermione thought until she opened her mouth again: "Just remember that you didn't push him away when he kissed you."

* * *

"Still want that drink?"

"No." Draco snapped.

"Why?"

Draco didn't grace him with an answer, he kept stomping away.

"What the hell?" Blaise called, quite exasperated to have to jog to keep up with the idiot. "You were all smiles ten seconds ago and now you're back to cranky bitch!"

That made Draco stop.

"I wasn't all … Wait, what did you just say?"

"That you were a cranky bitch." Blaise grinned. The response was all but smiles:

"I've got no idea why I'm your friend."

"I'm the only one putting up with you." Blaise shrugged.

"Well," Draco sneered. "Keep being like this and you won't have to for long."

Blaise rolled his eyes. What a drama queen.

"I just don't understand the stomping and …"

"Mind your own arse."

"Oh come on!"

Blaise grumbled his annoyance as Draco spun on the spot. He joined him back at his place an instant after, and managed to catch the lad before he locked himself in his room, for the second time in less than an hour.

Running after an angry or something, Draco, hadn't been on Blaise's plans for the day. He wasn't _Sherry_.

"What's _wrong_?" He asked rather rudely as he sat back down at the desk. Draco looked at his hands for a few seconds and, when Blaise was just about to explode and snap at him, he said in a small voice:

"Have you seen her face?"

Damn right he had. Salazar.

"I have." He'd actually chastely pecked the woman because he'd again found no words to say. Blaise hadn't become a mood lifter overnight, it just took a look at Draco to realise that.

He'd been no better facing a red and swollen eyed Hermione. She'd clearly cried, a lot, and drunk herself to oblivion until morning.

Whatever hair charm Stori could pull, that kind of evening showed on one's face.

But then, it was only one night. She'd just laughed.

She'd been better recently and she was in Stori's hands!

Plus, Blaise knew she had more secrets than that. She'd gotten over those by herself, she didn't need his words, neither Draco's worry.

"She'll get over it." He said.

Draco snorted.

"Why do you care anyway?"

The stubborn silence was really starting on Blaise's nerves. There wasn't so much he could take without snapping.

Couldn't the stubborn idiot confess he liked the woman already and be done with it? What bad could it possibly do?

Blaise had an idea.

Another dangerous idea that could yet again risk their friendship.

Pushing all of Draco's buttons.

The last time hadn't worked so well for him but then, Blaise was running out of creative ideas. And it was so tedious to stand by and not meddle the proper sly way he'd always used. His promise to Draco was a pain in the arse but it had a loophole he could exploit.

He had just needed the opportunity and it was now offered to him on a silver platter.

He'd promised not to meddle behind his back, or plot for him to do things.

Then, he would be meddling for him to _say_ something, and right to his face as well.

No promise broken.

Well it was either that, either yelling and frankly, he didn't feel like yelling.

"What?" He asked for Draco's frown. "Weren't you the one telling me I was a fool to care? Now you're just as …"

"You serious?" Draco cocked a suspicious and incredulous eyebrow. First step. Now he needed to be convincing.

"Yes I am." Blaise nodded. "I thought you only tolerated her because she could break your oath."

"What?" Draco startled. "You can't …" Blaise cut him to infuriate him more:

"I am. You don't really care. I don't see what the …" and it started working:

"Are you for _real_?" Draco was starting to see a little red and Blaise loved it.

"Again, yes I am. You've been denying you care for months! Now that I believe you, you just ..."

"What's wrong with you? Of course I fucking care!" It was getting harder to repress his smile, Blaise couldn't believe it was working.

"Yeah, right." He dismissed with a snort. "You don't give a shit so stop playing the drama queen."

"Wh … Fuck you! How can you say something …" And now the final blow. If Blaise had known it'd be as easy as that he'd have tried long before.

"I say the truth." He cut. "You barely tolerate her I don't see why you're making such a fuss."

"I barely … what the … I LIKE HER YOU MORON!" Draco snapped, standing up in his anger, and Blaise was physically not able to hold his smirk any longer.

"You like her?" He gushed.

"Yes I do!" Draco barked, too angry to realise what words he was using. "Are you happy now?!"

"Quite." Blaise smirked, or grinned, finally. "Are you?"

Here, realisation hit Draco square in the face. He blanched. If that were possible.

"Fuck."

"Not the answer I expected." Blaise chuckled.

"No, no, no." Draco shook his head, starting around the room. "Fuck!"

"Alright."

"SHUT UP!"

"Okay."

"I can't … No, I didn't mean …"

Nope, there'd be _no_ denial.

"Oh, you did." Blaise cut. "You like her."

"No, I …"

"You kissed her."

"FUCK."

Watching a hysterical Draco was much funnier than listening to it his ears glued to the door, Blaise decided. He'd already quite well lost his shit over a simple thank you note and a pathetic little peck the previous week, realising he actually liked the girl and he was looking FRANTIC.

It was the most emotions Blaise had seen on Draco's face since Hogwarts.

It was jubilating!

Now though, after words, it was time for actions. Although Blaise doubted that part would be as easy. Two miracles couldn't happen in one day. He'd give it one try though.

"What are you waiting for then?" He asked.

"What?"

"Go back there!"

"No."

"Why?"

* * *

"Because she doesn't want me there!" Draco barked. Right, of course, why not. Let's confess every bloody thought in his head now! What the hell was wrong with him?

"Yes, she does." Blaise dismissed with a chuckle.

"No she doesn't, she'd have said so." Here, again! He should have stopped at the first half of the sentence! Why the hell couldn't he just _shut up_?

Blaise was grinning, the infuriating moron was grinning. "She gawped at you." He said. "She didn't need to say a thing."

"What? She was …" _No_ , she hadn't. "She checked my hand you moron."

"Right and I'm ugly."

"She did!"

 _She had!_

"You're so stubborn it's …" Blaise sighed. "Go tell her you like her."

"I won't tell her anything." That he was certain of. Telling himself had already led to moronically telling Blaise which was a great, _great_ mistake.

"Why?"

"Because."

Well, how, Draco didn't know, but he had managed to make the lad speechless. It was a first. Although he was now looking at him as if he'd sprouted another leg, somewhere on his face. Draco sighed:

"I'm not doing anything about it Blaise. I will _not_." He warned, having apparently taken control of his mouth once more. "And you are going to keep your mouth shut even to Stori because if you tell her, it's the last time you'll ever see me. Am I being clear?" He hissed, meaning it. Blaise caught up with the tone and his grin disappeared.

"Crystal." He said, looking serious, both his hands lifted in surrender.

He stood to go then and just before he reached the door he chuckled:

"I can't believe you play prince charming and beat the evil man and then don't want the princess."

Draco had the nasty reflex of grabbing whatever was on hand - a paper weight in the shape of a small bludger this time - and sending it towards Blaise's head.

"FUCK OFF!"

The paper weight banged against the door Blaise had managed to close after him, and the idiot's laughter echoed through it.

Draco started contemplating the idea of smashing his head against it when he actually understood _why_ Blaise was laughing.

WHAT THE HELL HAD JUST HAPPENED?

* * *

Hermione didn't like at all the turn the conversation was taking. Not an ounce.

"What did you want to tell me?" She hissed.

Astoria's eyes grew wide, she'd apparently forgotten. However her face screwed in a grimace as she said:

"I met Potter last night."

"What? Where?"

"The prophet. There was a witness yesterday." She said softly.

"Oh Merlin." Hermione growled, of course there'd be. "What did Harry say?"

"That he took care of it."

Hermione snorted: "Right. Like he did last time? Let's cancel the paper and pretend nothing happened?"

"No. I cancelled the paper myself. Potter swore to me that he was going to take Weasley to Mungo's."

"Oh. You …"

"I warned him to stay away from you."

Hermione couldn't utter a single word. Astoria continued: "I also kind of threatened him … I think I managed to scare the crap out of him."

"Really?" Hermione asked dubiously. Astoria's smirk answered for her.

"Anyway." She dismissed the certainly death threat with a wave of her hand. Right, no need to quibble over details. "We agreed on something. It seems that one of your _friends_ has been gossiping for Witch Weekly under a fake name all along so, he let me handle that." She retrieved a small jar from her pocket. Hermione stared at it in confusion for a second before recognising the little insect inside. It had two round marks around its eyes.

She had a little laugh:

"Seriously?"

"Seriously." Astoria looked about as proud of herself as Hermione had the first time she'd contemplated the animagi through a jar as well.

"You don't know how much I love you right now." She said.

"She didn't know how much _I_ do. Now she does." Stori smirked. Hermione felt so grateful she almost stood to hug her.

"Merlin … thank you." She practically cried, and then, as Stori pushed the jar to her on the table with a vicious smirk, Hermione poked at it: "Hullo little bitch. How are vacations going?"

"She can't hear you." Stori chuckled. "I silenced the jar."

"Oh." Hermione pouted. "Pity, she won't hear me making the threats a reality."

Astoria chuckled:

"I so can't wait to tell Blaise."

"Draco might like the news as well." Hermione said and regretted it the instant the words left her mouth. She almost slapped herself.

"Yes, he might." Astoria smirked. "He might even kiss you proper on the mouth this time."

"Shut up."

* * *

 **A/N:** I've got a new one shot up for those interested - The man who was expected to - (not a dramione) and a long one shot dramione coming shortly (you know me by now, when I say shortly, it means it needs editing and well, when will that be?)

Also, I'm on Tumblr now (lucysturn) if you guys ever want a chat.

Love, Lucie.


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